Far across the land and sea
by liliumweiss
Summary: When he followed the woman in blue in that dark alley, Killian Jones didn't expect to sail the high seas with a princess on the run. When she found herself near Misthaven, Princess Emma didn't expect to to partner up with a pirate. Only sailing the high seas and traveling far, far away from home Emma will be able to live again, fighting the evil and, maybe, even falling in love.
1. death before my eyes

**Hello hello hello! Yes, I have a new fic but no, I still don't have an update schedule, I'm sorry D:**

 **This fic is based on a hidden objects game series aka Dark Parables which you don't have to play to understand the plot since I'll just use the games' plots to send our favourite couple on adventures. It'll be a Captain Duckling (kind of? I don't think Emma's a "swan" yet) and Killian has both his hands, since for "his" timeline it'd be around the time he's already met Milah, so around the events of 204 but with a twist I'll explain in the next chapter - I can't just give everything away, right?**

 **I actually don't know how long this will end up to be since I want to insert every game in this fic but at the same time move forward with the main plot - although everything is kinda related since both the game series and OUAT just relate everything and everyone :'D**

 **Off I go, I hope you enjoy the story and... sorry about the ending, too? Ops.**

Chapter 1 – death before my eyes

Killian stepped into the tavern followed by part of his crew, the rest of it probably was being entertained in some brothel or was clutching a bottle of rum in some black alley ready to down it all by themselves.

Immediately, the smell of beer filled his nostrils, piercing but tolerable, better than the smell of vomit, at least. He looked at the faces of the patrons; the cacophony of shouts, exclamations and hushed whispers didn't bother him, in fact it was a perfect accompaniment for a night of celebrations, especially after he'd just sunk another ship of the Royal Navy. He was definitely proud of himself.

«Ah! Here comes the Captain!» one of his men exclaimed raising his stein of beer, the golden liquid spilling at the movement, but the pirate seemed not to care about it.

With a clap of his hands that predicted a night full of pure entertainment and a smile on his face, Killian headed towards the table occupied by his crew, noticing with pleasure that a beautiful woman with long dark hair he'd already seen before in that same tavern had joined them. He'd asked her to leave with him after having gotten a brute off her back – well, more brute than him. That woman fascinated him, and he fascinated her, telling her about his journeys. She hung off his words, and that couldn't help but make him glad.

He'd almost reached his destination when he felt something beneath his foot, a cork, maybe, but he had to change his mind when he heard a whimper and a feral growl as his eyes met the ones of a wolf.

«Bloody hell!» he exclaimed. He never thought he would ever find a wolf there, especially not one about to bite him because he'd stepped on its tail. The animal had a white-grey fur, its ears backwards and its jaws bared beneath the table, a clear invitation to apologize and go away as fast as possible. The eyes, though, were extremely particular: one yellow as gold and the other one red as blood.

Killian Jones wasn't a coward, on the contrary, he loved a challenge, but he perfectly knew when a battle was lost, and a wolf wasn't worth losing his life, and he didn't like the idea of kill such a wonderful animal.

Besides, someone would avenge the wolf. Killian noticed almost instantly the crossbow on the table as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and he immediately sensed the eyes of the man that watched him with rage, his lips parted as he hissed between his teeth as if Killian had stepped on _his_ tail.

His gaze wandered on the man's two companions: next to the man, with her back against the wall, there was a brunette, her long black hair was a sharp contrast to her pale complexion, but her eyes were furious, and for a moment he thought he saw a flash of yellow in her green irises, just like the wolf's. The other one, instead, was sitting on the opposite bench, had a halo of blonde curls gathered in a ponytail that fell down her shoulder, her expression tense and ready to unsheathe the sword she kept at her waist. She was dressed like a man but emphasizing, maybe not intentionally, her curves. Killian was delighted. Besides, blue suited her.

It was her green eyes that made him lose his train of thoughts for a moment, making him feel like the world had stopped and the two of them were the only ones able to move. Those green irises reminded him of emeralds, but lighter, with a brown halo around the pupils, animated by a fire he was sure nobody would be ever able to extinguish.

He imperceptibly shook his head, and the sounds came rushing back, thundering in his ears, this time in a definitely less than pleasant way. «I apologize,» he simply said, bowing his head but not daring to move, the wolf had his eyes still on him, and turn his back to him could've been deadly.

Before someone could say something, a voice from behind the counter called: «Call off your wolf, huntsman, I wouldn't want to kick you out because you make my customers run away!»

The corners of the man's mouth lifted slightly in an amused smirk, the widow Lucas' manners had never been gentler, admonishing someone without threatening him with her crossbow was something she usually didn't do.

He gave a feeble whistle and the wolf relaxed, throwing Killian a last glance before laying down and putting his face between his paws, eyes closed but body alert. The pirate was fascinated, but he knew better than abuse the animal's patience even further.

With a nod of his head, Killian headed towards his table, throwing a smile to the woman whose blue eyes seemed to return it from behind the stein.

He couldn't get those green eyes out of his mind, they'd had an effect on him similar to a spell, and a part of him thought she could even be a witch. He shook his head, it was better not to get involved with magic, it only brought death and loneliness.

It was almost midnight, three steins of beer in his body and the pirate was just about tipsy, but that didn't stop him from recognizing the uniform of the guards who entered the tavern, after all he'd worn the same colours for years.

Rage shot through him, a stabbing pain hit him in the chest and his expression hardened. He was ready to go there and cut their throats, held back just by the widow Lucas' expression, her eyes narrowed down to two slits behind the glasses, pure sheer hate radiating from her body.

«You're not welcome here,» she hissed through her teeth that, to Killian's surprise, she pulled a crossbow out from under the counter. «We don't serve your king, here.» She spat those words as if they were poison, and that put her on top of the list of people he appreciated.

He couldn't understand what the guards replied, catching a movement on his right, the floating of a red cloak in the dim light and the white fur of a wolf preceding the trio towards the back of the tavern. He looked over his shoulder, watching the three disappear behind a door covered by a curtain, clearly an escape route. He frowned, had they wronged King George?

Without thinking twice, Killian stood, leaving the woman he was telling one of his adventure to with a frown and an offended expression on her face. He didn't care, he had to know. He strode past the last tables, lifted the curtain and opened the door, finding himself in a dark alley. He closed the door behind his back, searching for a clue that'd tell him where the three went in the calm night.

He'd taken just a few steps when he heard voices, hisses and whispers he still managed to perfectly understand.

«You can't keep running, Emma,» the voice of a woman said, worry emerged from her tone like a blade from the back of a man did.

«I can and I have to, Red,» the girl who must've been Emma replied, resolution – or was it stubbornness? – in her voice.

«Ruby is right, Emma, you must go back to your parents, this has been going on for too much time.» This time it'd been the man to talk, and he seemed to want to make Emma reflect.

Killian heard snort slightly. «Of course you agree with her, Graham, she's your wife.»

«That's not the point.»

A sigh. «I know, sorry,» Emma whispered, and Killian asked himself if she was the blonde one. She _must_ be her, it was almost as if the name belonged to her, and as for Ruby – or Red – well, one dressed in blue and the other in red, and unless she hated her own name, the brunette must be her. «I need to go away from here, though. I didn't think they'd find me in so little time.»

«Isn't that your family's motto? I will always find you and things like that?» Ruby tried to joke about it.

« _He_ isn't part of my family. My father isn't his son and you know that.» There was repressed anger in Emma's voice and Killian couldn't help but connect the few information he had obtained until that moment. If that woman was telling the truth, that made her…

Something warm and soft caressed his hand and he started, hissing a curse. He should've imagined that the wolf was their silent guard, but since he couldn't see them, he'd thought it was with them.

He couldn't hear their voices anymore, knowing the three now were aware of his presence. The wolf clutched his hand between its fangs without sinking its teeth but tugging him with force and making him stumble a little. Killian knew that if he didn't follow him now his own blood would bathe the pavement.

«Who's there?»

Killian was greeted by the sight of the man with a crossbow pointed towards the end of the alley, the blonde with a sword in her hand and the brunette with her hands threateningly tightened around the laces of her cloak. Seeing that, even if he shouldn't have, he arched a brow, ironically. With a smirk and his hand still trapped between the wolf's fangs, he bowed deeply, moving his free hand in a theatrical gesture.

«Captain Killian Jones at your service.»

The brunette, Ruby, it seemed, relaxed her grip on the cloak and made a movement with her nose as if she was… sniffing him. «Sea, leather, spices, rum, beer. Pirate.» Killian didn't like much the way she said that, as if she despised what he was.

«What did you hear?»

Killian shrugged, looking at the nails of his right hand. «Ah, nothing important,» he said. He wanted to know, though, because there was the chance that the girl, that Emma, was the key to his revenge.

«Let us establish that,» the blonde replied, heading towards him with her sword trained on him, her grip firm on the hilt. He noticed with just a glance that the weapon was of perfect workmanship, one that, had he found it, he would surely keep for himself.

«Emma…» The huntsman's voice was warning, a distinct signal that something was wrong.

«How many?» she asked without looking away from Killian, maybe she found it impossible to do so just as he did.

«Ten,» Ruby replied, untying the cloak and throwing it over some barrels piled up against the wall. The wolf let go of Killian's hand and moved back, merging with the darkness.

Emma tilted her head on the side. «Go back to your woman, pirate,» she commanded, on her face a shadow of apprehension. It was obvious she didn't want him there, especially because she didn't trust him. How could he _not_ understand her? He wouldn't trust a pirate either if he had eavesdropped a conversation that much interesting.

Only then he noticed that, instead of the brunette, next to the huntsman, there was a black wolf, bigger than the other. He gulped, knowing he should walk back inside, all of that was something definitely bigger than him, something he didn't have anything to do with.

Or at least it was so until ten King George's guards appeared in the alley. He wasn't a coward, he wouldn't back out, not when there was something that could help him avenge his brother.

«Ah! Jones!» one of the guards exclaimed, and Killian recognized one of the men he'd attended fencing classes with when he still was in the Navy. A flash of anger crossed his face as he brought a hand to the hilt of his cutlass. «Thank you for making our mission easier, even if I would've never expected it from a traitor like you.» His tone of voice was mocking and tinged with disgust. Then, on the man's face bloomed a mean smile. «And, please, tell me, how's your brother fairing? What's his name? Liam, am I right?»

Before Killian could even move, the grey wolf jumped on one of the men in the second line, it'd apparently reached the lowest roof for a surprise attack.

That gave Killian time to react and pull out his cutlass. He strode towards the man who'd addressed him, Randall or something like that, hate in his eyes that reflected on his features.

The black wolf had already bled out two more men biting their throats while the huntsman and the blonde fought shoulder by shoulder, every their movement coordinated as if they were dancing.

For his part, Killian clashed his cutlass with the captain of the guards', the one who had dared to pronounce his brother's name with disdain in his voice. Liam had been a man of honour until his last breath, died at the hand of the same King he'd sworn to serve. He grit his teeth, only focusing on the hate he was feeling in that moment, nothing charged him up more.

«And here I thought you would run away with your tail between your legs,» Randall sneered as they circled around each other, isolated from the rest of the battle as if they were in an entire different world. «And now I find you confabulating with the enemy. What would you brother say? Oh, yes, bad form!»

With a roar, Killian threw himself on the man, cutlass clutched so tightly in his hand his knuckles were white as snow. He struck, nicking him in the arm, Randall's expression now angrier, but not as angry as Killian's, nothing could compare to the hate he felt towards that corrupted King and his underlings.

He heard a wolf's whimper and a man shout Ruby's name, but he didn't care, that wasn't his battle. And if that Emma actually was who he thought she was, well, he would've liked to exchange a few words with her, but just to understand if she was on the same page as him.

«Don't you dare talk about Liam,» he growled lunging forward with growing fury, «I should cut your tongue for having just pronounced his name.»

Randall's face drew an expression of mock terror. «You're _oh_ so scary, _Captain_ ,» he joked, trying to graze Killian's sleeve with his blade, opening a gash on his shoulder. «First you steal his title, then his ship. I bet that if he had had a wife you would've stolen even her!»

It seemed to him as if he'd been detached from his own body, a roar of anger rose from his throat as he parried another lunge to his face, using his foot to throw Randall off balance. Randall stumbled backwards before he recovered and attacked Killian with all his might. Killian was faster, bending to avoid Randall's blade and run his own through his stomach.

The man's dead weight fell upon him and Killian shrugged him off himself as if he was mud that had dirtied his boots. Blood dripped from his cutlass onto the pavement, his breath ragged from exertion and rage.

He noticed just then that the other men were laying in a heap in the alley, black puddles spreading under them. He noticed the huntsman not too far away, kneeling over Ruby, who had changed back into her human form and was covered by the crimson cloak, the fabric almost black under the hand that was pressing on the wound.

«Bring her home,» he heard Emma order, crouched beside her friends, her gaze worried and filled with guilt.

Graham nodded and helped Ruby standing up, making her wince a little. «I'll send reinforcements…»

«No,» Emma cut him off, shaking her head vigorously. «I… I'll see you soon, you go tending your wounds, I'll stay here and get rid of the bodies.»

Killian only had a glimpse of her face, but he could sense her lie, she was an awful liar, definitely not apt to bluff. He surely wasn't the only one thinking so, because the huntsman sighed sadly after looking at her for a long moment and pressed a kiss on her forehead, hugging her slightly. Ruby was looking at her sharply, reaching out the hand she was using to hold on to Graham and clutching tightly Emma's.

Before turning her back to her friend, Ruby lifted her eyes onto Killian and he felt his skin crawl as her green irises flashed yellow for a moment, a clear warning sign at which he found himself nodding slowly, as if he was moved around by invisible strings.

The two of them, followed by the grey wolf, vanished into the night, leaving Emma and Killian alone, the silence welcoming their barely panting breaths. Slowly, Emma turned towards him, looking him in the eyes and Killian found himself captured once again by that sensation that prevented him from moving, that pushed him to draw near her.

«I could thank you if I didn't know you did all of this just for personal profit,» she started, tilting her head on the side, a few of her curls were encrusted with blood, probably not hers, she didn't seem to be wounded. «I just wonder what brings you to hate George so much.»

He would've liked to answer ironically, he _really_ would've wanted to, but those green eyes of hers pushed him to tell the truth: «He betrayed my trust in the worst of ways, I've promised myself that I never again would've served a corrupted king and I've sworn I never would've let any of his men walk away alive if they crossed my path.»

Emma seemed to weigh his answer and when she slowly nodded he was grateful she didn't ask him about Liam. «Then I guess we're on the same boat, sort of,» she murmured, raising her hand to take off the right elbow-long glove. At first, Killian couldn't understand what she was doing, but when the palm of her hand started to glow white he winced, although not surprised at all.

Under her hand, the dead bodies turned to ashes, which flew away with the salty breeze. As if drawn to her by an invisible thread, Killian moved closer and one of his hands closed around her wrist, her palm still glowing under his amazed gaze.

He'd seen magic in action, albeit never this close, and the last time he'd sworn he never would've been involved again. This time, though… this time it was different, it was white magic, _pure_ magic.

He saw Emma biting her lower lip, his hair falling over his eyes but he didn't move to brush it away, literally bewitched by the young woman in front of him.

«You're wounded. Can I… Do you want me to heal you?»

«If I step too far away from you the wound will reopen?» he couldn't stop himself from asking, not after what had happened to Liam, not after he'd taken a stupid decision to save him and that had irremediably backfired.

Emma frowned at the question, so he just nodded slowly, releasing her wrist and letting her place her hand on his shoulder. A strange warmth followed by a tingling flooded him, making him jump. It was a completely new sensation, pleasant, even, that had him smile warmly as he kept his eyes locked with hers.

Before he could even open his mouth for one of his usual innuendos, they heard a dying voice calling out to them a few feet away.

«Send my regards to your brother, _Captain_.»

Randall's voice faded on the last syllable but his arm had already completed the movement and a dagger was aiming straight towards Killian, ready to take his life.

«No!»

Emma's scream reached his ears the same instant her body slammed into his, forcefully pushing him onto the pavement. Ignoring the pain in his back, Killian lifted himself into a sitting position, bringing Emma with him, on her lips the ghost of a smile, the hand she had on his shoulder was now resting on her own waist from which now protruded the hilt of the dagger meant for him.


	2. you saved my life with blood and through

**Hi!I'm not used to quick updates, but since this chapter was pretty short to translate, I made it. I also wanted to upload it because I feel like it was too tied to the first chapter to let you wait too much.**

 **This chapter doesn't feature Captain Swan so much, it's mostly Killian's thoughts. You might think this is moving too fast, but I'm sticking to Killian's moral code, he would do anything for someone who saved his life. Besides, he might be angry and in full pirate mode, but he still has the Lieutenant buried somewhere deep in his heart, as he has always had on the show.**

 **If you know me, you'll also know I hate Regina with a passion on the show, but at times, when it comes to AUs, I can write her as the pleasant person she was in s7, aka the only season I could actually stand her. I'll explain who she is to Emma in the future, and it'll also explain why she acts as she does in this chapter.**

 **Thank you for follows, favourites, comments and kudos, I hope you'll stick with me in this journey.**

 **P.S.: 10 points to those who catch the two tributes I made to a show and a book ;)**

Chapter 2 - You saved my life with blood and through sacrifice

The moment he entered the tavern with Emma in his arms, Widow Lucas hurried to him, grabbing Emma's wrist and searching for the heartbeat, her eyes worried behind the thick lenses.

«Come with me, Captain, let's bring her in her room,» the woman whispered to him before picking up her skirts and leading him upstairs. Killian followed her quickly, feeling Emma shivering his arms and not because of a simple wound, no, that dagger must be poisoned and he found himself praying that nobody else had been sent to Neverland after them, otherwise the girl would soon exhale her last breath.

«Lay her down on the bed,» the widow ordered opening the door of one of the most isolated rooms. Killian didn't need to be told twice and laid her on the soft bed, taking a moment to brush her hair from her forehead beaded with sweat.

He felt a hand on his arm and saw the woman bent over Emma's side, studying the dagger. «Scott, Isaac!» she called after a few minutes in her usual commanding tone. Two teenagers, probably twins or at least brothers, immediately showed up at the room's door, ready to receive their orders. «Go to the Dark Palace, tell the Queen Emma's been poisoned and that she's here. She'll know what to do. Go and don't stop in front of anything.»

The woman hadn't even finished talking that the two had already ran away, ready to turn into wolves the moment they were away from prying eyes.

Emma shuddered, and Killian clutched the hand she had healed him tightly. «We need to remove the dagger,» he murmured loudly enough for the widow to hear him.

«I'll take what we need, the more we slow down the poison the better it will be for Emma.»

Killian nodded slightly, feeling a light pressure against the hand holding Emma's. He lifted his gaze but only met her closed eyes. She was shivering, her slender body pervaded by shivers, her skin so pale that recalled a ghost's. He reached to brush her hair from her neck, her lips moving, forming words he couldn't understand.

He'd seen many poisons worm their way to their victim's heart, but only two acted instantaneously, and he was grateful he could rule out the one produced by Agrabahn vipers and the one that'd killed his brother.

Despite his mind was screaming at him to stay as far as possible from that woman, she'd taken a dagger in his place, a _poisoned_ dagger no less. He couldn't simply wash his hands of it just because he didn't know her.

«Hold her still.»

The widow's voice made him wince but he acted immediately, leaning forward to place a hand on Emma's left shoulder as his right one landed on her side. He hoped that, as the woman rapidly pulled out the dagger, Emma was unconscious, hope that shattered the moment her lips parted to emit a pained scream that shook him from head to toe as he held her down on the bed so she wouldn't hurt herself even more.

«Help me undress her.»

Without letting that order intimidate him – bloody hell, he was a pirate! – Killian unfastened the belt Emma had around her waist and then unbuttoned her blue leather vest. He tried not to let himself be distracted by her pale and soft stomach when he pulled up her shirt, instead focusing his attention on the wound, a red gash from which branched out black veinings. He blinked, that poison reminded him of the one that had killed his brother; Killian was grateful it wasn't the same poison.

He refused to believe that King George had sent more men on that mission, Killian had burned the only way to reach Neverland, after all, unless he'd been lucky enough to find the Hatter or magic beans.

Emma's scream echoed in the room once again when the old widow poured rum on her wound. Killian knew that pain well, he'd many scars on his body to prove it. Emma, for her part, seemed to be less inclined to be wounded, or at least to bring the scars of her battles.

Widow Lucas applied an ointment on her wound, its reek made Killian wrinkle his nose. «The bloody hell is that?»

«It'll slow the poison, but not for long.»

«That dagger wasn't meant for her,» Killian murmured, looking the woman's hands work on Emma's snow white skin.

She shook her head. «That dagger was meant for Emma, but Randall must have decided to use it against you.»

Killian lifted his gaze on the woman, skeptical. «How do you know it was him?»

«My hearing isn't as good as it used to be, but I'm not deaf,» she replied with a wolfish grin. «Besides, it's always been him who imposed his rules amongst George's men, he alone knew how much important was for them to use that dagger on Emma. George won't be pleased.»

«Why would the king want his granddaughter dead?»

The woman's eyes seemed to pierce right through him as they met Killian's. He felt himself shiver; evidently that was something he shouldn't know. Now, though, he was too involved to back off, this might be his only way to avenge Liam.

«Emma is not tied to the king in any way, but this is known only to her closest relatives. It's not up to me to tell you her story, just know that Emma is a victim in this game, a pawn that thinks she's moving as she will when instead her life is under George's control.»

«On whom does he want to get revenge? Who cares that much about Emma's life?»

With a sigh, the woman just said: «Keep her up and try not to touch the wound too much.»

Pursing his lips in a thin line, Killian moved to seat behind Emma and gripped her delicately by her shoulders, lifting her up until she found herself almost seated in his lap, allowing the woman to bandage her wound.

Once she was done, the widow stood and grabbed a heavy blanket she then draped over Emma after Killian had laid her down. Instinctively, Killian brushed a strand of blonde hair away from her cheek, noticing how the situation had made it almost lifeless, of a pale yellow instead of its golden shade he'd admired just a few hours before.

It looked like the poison was giving her a bit of a break; despite her furrowed brow, the rest of her body was relaxed, almost as if she was just having a nightmare.

Usually, Killian would've left here there, after all there was someone capable of saving her, he could wash his hands of it, yet he couldn't move away from there, he couldn't imagine abandon her. She'd saved his life – even if a part of him thought Emma would've found a way to heal him if the dagger had hit his target. No one, not even his own crew had ever cared about him that much, since Liam's death nobody had ever cared about him so much to put their own life in danger to save his own. And it was extremely strange, inconceivable, even, because they didn't know each other. Of course, maybe Emma thought she'd put him in danger with her presence, maybe she thought it was all her fault, and that made his heart tighten.

«It's strange seeing a man like you be concerned about a girl he doesn't even know.»

Killian bit back a smile. He could've replied that he already knew her because she populated his dreams or with some hint about soulmates – _soulmates? Get a grip, you bloody idiot of a pirate_ – but he just shrugged. «She saved my life,» he replied with ease, as if that explanation was enough to satisfy the woman's curiosity.

«Then I strongly hope you won't make her regret it.»

He lifted his head to ask the woman what she meant but she'd already closed the door behind her back, leaving Killian sat on the edge of the bed. He wondered what the widow wanted, that would probably be the last time he ever saw Emma: once confirmed that she would be alright he would set sail and, if he was lucky, Milah would go with him.

Then why, suddenly, the thought of leaving with another woman felt _wrong_? All of a sudden, the thought of leaving Emma hurt him. Had she bewitched him? He'd felt that way all night long since he'd met her gaze. Gods, she'd looked so much outraged with him for having stomped on the wolf's tail. What would he have done to see her like that once again, awake and combative, an actual spitfire.

As he watched her pant in her sleep, he asked himself if she loved the sea, if she ever had contemplated sailing away. _With you, maybe_ , a voice from a distant part of his mind added. He banished it with a jerk of his head.

 _I have Milah_.

 _No_ , the voice inside his mind replied, _you don't have her, Milah has her husband, her_ son _. Do you want an innocent child to be an orphan? Do you want him to become like_ you _?_

Killian shivered at the thought. No, he didn't want Milah to abandon her son, and in his opinion their relationship was too new to ask her to bring her son with her. He couldn't say a ship wasn't the best place to raise a child, after all he too had been on a ship when his father had abandoned him and Lam, but his was a pirate ship.

No, he couldn't ask her something like that, not even if she wanted it, not even if she'd fall on her knees and beg him.

He didn't know how long he stayed there looking at Emma, admiring the perfection of her smooth and delicate skin sprinkled with golden freckles he was sure would shine bathed in sunlight, but his daydream was abruptly interrupted by a cloud of purple smoke that materialized in the room.

Killian's hand went to his cutlass, ready to defend Emma from the intruder.

«Great,» the woman in black scowled, «now she doesn't have just watchdogs, but even _pirates_.»

Standing up, Killian narrowed his eyes, pointing them in the woman's chestnut ones. «Sorry to disappoint, love,» Killian hissed, his sword now aimed at her. He knew he had a poor chance of winning against her or of wounding her, but it was worth trying. Emma was worth it.

«Move, each minute I lose because of you the poison will spread closer to heart, in your foolish attempt of saving her from me – ridiculous, let me tell you this – you could be the cause of her death.»

«How do I know you didn't came here to finish that bastard's job?»

The expression on the woman's face was priceless, eyes wide and mouth agape in surprise and disgust. «Unbelievable,» she huffed to herself, addressing him next. «Listen, pirate, this his my granddaughter, so don't you dare put yourself in my way.» Her eyes shone with an almost golden light as she neared him until she was in front of him. «Now _move_.»

«Listen to her, boy, if there's someone who can save Emma, this is her.» Widow Lucas' voice didn't make him jump, but it was the order that made him move, allowing the woman in black to sit where he'd been just an instant before.

«At least it's not dreamshade,» he heard her mutter as she inspected the wound. The name of that plant, of that damned poison that had ripped away from him the only person in the world who had never abandoned him, made Killian clench his jaw.

He sheathed his cutlass, knowing that if he held it one second more he would modernize the room's furniture – and he would probably find himself a wolf at his throat, unforgiving.

Killian already knew it wasn't dreamshade, that beast was fast and lethal. If it'd been, another person would've perished in his arms and would've died because of him.

Emma moaned as a purple light passed form the woman's palm to her wound. With the other hand, the woman made a little chest appear. It opened under her touch, revealing vials containing various liquids, powders and animal's parts. If he hadn't been so much nervous maybe he would've made a joke about it, but his eyes were focused on Emma, on her furrowed and beaded with sweat brow.

«Help me instead of staying there like a codfish,» the woman hissed, ordering him to come closer to the chest with a nod of her head. «Take that empty vial and put inside snake's tongue, mandrake's root and salamander's skin.»

Feeling out of that world, Killian followed her orders, trying his best to decipher the woman's contorted calligraphy, finding all the ingredients. He hissed grabbing the salamander's skin, glaring at the woman, who was barely concealing her smirk.

Emma hissed when the woman poked her wound with a dagger, drawing blood and poison, smearing of black and crimson the silver blade. Without making any single drop of blood fall, she transferred it inside the vial Killian was holding out to her.

«Close and shake.» The order would've made him see red hadn't it been for Emma's pained moan. He breathed in deeply, following the order without taking his eyes off Emma. She had hers half-closed, part of those green irises that earlier had bewitched him were visible under her blonde eyelashes, dull and glassy.

«Will this help her?»

«No, this will just tell me what kind of poison it is, only then I'll be able to cure her.» Shaking the vial, Killian noticed it started to emanate a purplish glow. The woman gave an amused chuckle and he glared at her. «We've been lucky, I've dealt with Agrabahn vipers, I know how to cure it. Fortunately for her, my administrations of poison contrasted its deathly power.» She evoked another vial, this one with a dense silver liquid in it. «Keep her mouth open.»

Killian did as he was told, moving behind Emma's head and caressing her face with his fingers. She tried to move away, but he slightly tightened his grip. «Come on, love, don't be stubborn.» He asked himself what the woman meant when she said she'd administrated her poison, the only case he could think about was that she was trying to make Emma invulnerable to poisons. He'd heard of people doing that, but until then he'd never met anyone capable of not succumbing to a poison.

The woman opened the vial and brought it to Emma's lips. Killian remembered how it was to be in her place, feverish and needing a too expensive medicine Captain Silver wasn't willing to give him. Liam had done everything to get hold of it, forcing it down his throat until he'd swallowed the last drop. He brushed the girl's hair, remembering the feeling of his brother's fingers on his own skin.

Emma seemed to relax more and more in his arms, her breath more regular and no more a hiss pushed through her teeth, no more moans as the poison corroded her blood.

«This should be enough,» the woman said, noticing how the tangle of black veins withdrew until it disappeared completely. She waved her hand and Emma was wrapped in a cloud of dense purple smoke. Killian winced, tightening his grip on her. When the smoke dissipated, instead of her clothes drenched with sweat, Emma was wearing a white nightshirt of fine craftmanship with a red ribbon under her breasts, emphasising them.

«Let her rest, but wet her lips once in a while. Weigh anchor with the morning's tide and take her as far away from here as possible.»

She was about to wave her hand and disappear when Killian stopped her with a gesture. «Take her? Aren't you capable of, I don't know, causing that bastard a heart attack? Or protecting her?»

The raven-haired woman seemed about to lose her patience, or she already had, however she didn't disappear, but smoothed a jewelled sleeve. «Unfortunately, she isn't safe here, my mother is allied with George and until she will be, everything I'll do won't be as powerful as what she could do. Besides, I wouldn't bring the Dark One into this, especially not after a certain pirate spent months trying to bed his wife. Now, I don't actually think he's much interested in her, no, he prefers his servant, however he's rather possessive and doesn't like to lose.»

Suddenly, Killian connected the dots, understanding who Milah actually was and why she was so unhappy. He ran a hand down his face, tired of everything that was happening to him, as if destiny had decided to lay an ambush after another. «Where must I take her?»

Her face softened slightly, a minimal change dictated by a faint smile accentuated by the scar on her upper lip. «Show her the world, Captain, bring her on new adventures, distract her, don't make her think about home and don't let her come back here, not until I'll tell you so. I have a plan, but I can't deal with the guards that are constantly hunting her down trying to poison or kill her.» With a last glance to Emma, she looked him in the eyes. For the first time, Killian noticed how sad they were. «Make her live a wonderful life, Captain.»

With that, a cloud of smoke enveloped her and the Queen disappeared from his sight.


	3. time to escape the clutches of a name

**Hi! This chapter marks the end of this three-chapters prologue, and it's a bit more "me" than the other two - aka longer and with more CS in it, besides the quotes.**

 **I said I would explain in this chapter who was Regina and here you have a hint, but I actually couldn't fit her story here. Not that I mind much, she's not exactly relevant to this story.**

 **This said, thank you so much for the reviews, comments, kudos, follow and favourites, I'm really glad!**

 **And now, on with the chapter!**

Chapter 3 – time to escape the clutches of a name

When she woke up, Emma took a few moments to understand where she was. Once she understood she was at Granny's, she also noticed she was alone and not dressed in her usual clothes but in a nightgown like the ones she hadn't worn in years.

She closed her eyes once again, enjoying the feeling of silk against her skin, different from the ones leather or rough linen left.

«You must drink.»

The voice made her wince, and she immediately moved her hand under the pillow where she usually kept the dagger, but that wasn't her bedding at Ruby's, nor her old little bed in the castle's East wing.

Besides, she knew that voice, the one she'd heard before losing consciousness. Reluctantly, she sat up, accepting the glass the pirate was handing her. «Thank you,» she murmured, her shoulders stiff. After the first sip, she started to gulp down the water greedily, her throat dry and sore. Water ran down her chin, dripping onto the nightgown, which became almost transparent. As if suddenly aware of her complete nudity, Emma grabbed the blanked at the foot of the bed and covered her shoulders.

«Widow Lucas has brought your breakfast, highness,» he said, pushing towards her a stool on which there were several slices of buttered bread and some fruits.

«Why did you call me "highness"? I've not been a princess in a very long time,» she commented harshly, grabbing a slice of bread and devouring it in just a few bites, definitely not in a regal way. That made the man chuckle.

«You will always be a princes, whether you live in a castle or eat like a hungry child in a tavern.» He offered her a smile that she returned shyly.

«Oh, well, my mother would be horrified if she saw me right now, but she would understand. After all, she too had spent years away from the castle, in the woods.»

Killian sat on the edge of the bed. Emma found that gesture so intimate she suddenly felt a woman, a feeling she had not felt in a long time. Never, actually, not even when she lived with all those werewolves.

«How do you feel?» he asked her, brushing a strand of blonde hair away from her face. «Until a few hours ago you were so pale, like a ghost. Now I can see the light back into your eyes.»

Under the scrutiny of his gaze, his eyes as blue as the sea after the storm, Emma blushed. «What did Regina tell you?» she asked, lowering her gaze. «What orders did she give you?»

«She told me to take you with me.»

Emma winced, her eyes finding his. She could see trepidation veined with anxiety, as if he feared she would not accept his offer. Part of her wanted him to beg her to go with him. Emma knew he would do so. It was a strange feeling, just like when her magic flowed through her veins or when her heart beat in her chest.

«Why would a pirate care for a noblewoman?» she wondered, tilting her head. Too many years spent on the run had taught her to be distrustful, yet something in her wanted her to take a leap of faith and follow him, even with her eyes closed.

She saw hope shatter in his irises as he lowered his head, thinking carefully about his reply. «Because I once was a man of honour, I used to serve under King George and I've been betrayed. With you… I have the feeling you will never betray me.» _Don't do it, please_ , was the silent pela in his eyes, something that broke something inside her.

However, Emma wasn't a stupid. «And the other woman?» she asked in a whisper, as if talking about her was like throwing an accusation of betrayal at him. Hell, they hadn't even known each other for more than a few hours, how could she already feel so… so… _jealous_? No, she wasn't jealous. She couldn't be, she didn't have a reason to be.

Killian gulped, averting his gaze. «She wasn't the person I thought her to be,» he confessed darkly, and Emma understood he'd been so involved her betrayal had left a scar on his heart. However, Emma knew it wasn't a deep wound, just like she knew how much pain lies could cause.

«When are we to set sail?»

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. «You don't want to judge my way of life? Or wondering why would I do that?»

Emma breathed out, exasperated. «I've lived amongst werewolves for years, I surely won't criticize a crew of pirates who take some fortune for themselves from a ship when their owners swim in gold,» she scoffed, wrapping the blanked tighter around herself, raising her knees and circling with her arms. «Besides, I've already asked you that question.»

«Ha-ha, you asked me why a pirate cared about a noblewoman's life, not why I was willing to help you,» he corrected her with a satisfied smirk.

Emma rolled her eyes, sighing. «All right, then: why are you willing to bring me with you?»

Killian shrugged. «Besides the fact that that woman could easily rip my heart out my chest and turn it into dust before my own eyes if I don't obey her?» he asked with a playful expression, turning serious a moment later. Emma's breath caught in her throat. «Emma, you deserve to see the world. You deserve more than seeing it from a ship full of pirates, but you deserve to live.»

She looked at him with slightly parted lips, baffled by his brief explanation. It was true, since George had started to hunt her down, Emma had never stopped for a moment, ready to find her umpteenth hiding place far away from her parents, but merely surviving.

And now, now she had the chance to live, to go on an adventure. She would still be away from home, she knew that, but she wouldn't focus on her next refuge, on how much she would take to outflank the guards to sneak into the castle from one of the underground tunnels.

She would be far from them, but she would keep them safe for her own love was their worst enemy, their doom.

Emma lifted her eyes and met his, two oceans she wouldn't mind get lost into. Maybe she already had. She nodded slowly, not trusting her own voice. Killian must understand – how he always managed to do so, she hadn't the faintest idea – because he nodded, too. «We set sail after breakfast, the woman ordered me to wait for the morning's tide. You have almost an hour to get ready and have something to eat.»

In his voice she could hear the Captain in him and she felt her body being flooded with a strange, warm sensation. She gulped, arching a brow when she saw him having no intention of leaving her alone.

«What is it?» he asked, clueless.

Emma snorted. «Shall I change in front of you?» The moment she realized the weight of her words, her cheeks went aflame, but she didn't avert her gaze, challenging him.

With a bright smile, Killian bent towards her, his every movement calculated to feed the fire in her lower belly, a fire that threatened to turn her to dust. «If the lady insists,» Killian murmured, lowering for a moment his eyes onto her lips, lips that Emma involuntarily sucked between her teeth. His gaze was ravenous, far more dangerous than the one she'd seen in the werewolves' eyes when they were famished.

Emma opened and closed her mouth several times as if to say something, but nothing came out of her lips. She knew she had to make him go, to push him away, even just for now, but she didn't want to.

As if sensing her inner struggle, Killian pulled away abruptly, suddenly letting her release the breath she didn't know she was holding. He stood, running a ringed hand through his hair, tousling it even more. «I… I'd better go. I'll be waiting for you downstairs.»

As he closed the door behind his back, Emma noticed how slightly shaken he was. Had he maybe felt what she had? Or was it only her imagination? No, of course it wasn't, his hungry gaze couldn't be false, it was as real as she was.

She stood up, barely controlling her shaking knees which threatened to give out under her weight. She noticed a pile of folded clothes on a chair; hers were only the leather boots and pants. With a sigh, she removed the nightshirt, throwing it on the bed.

Lowering her eyes onto her stomach, Emma noticed a thin greyish line, in contrast with her complexion. She knew it would fade soon, Regina always made sure of that, or she did, but seeing it reminded her of the previous night.

She'd been a fool, throwing herself like that in front of the dagger… she'd almost served George the victory on a silver platter. And for what? A stranger? _No_ , her mind immediately corrected her, _not a stranger_.

There was something in Killian, something inexplicably familiar though she couldn't put a name on it. When she'd looked him into his eyes for the first time, in the tavern downstairs, she'd felt her magic flow like incandescent lava through her veins and tickling her palms in a completely different way. It wasn't like when she normally used it, it was more… intense, more free, as if it answered to a call stronger than she was.

She'd seen werewolves answer to a call like that when they found their mate, but she wasn't a werewolf, she wasn't destined to a mate to whom tie herself for her whole life. However, with him, she felt complete. Which was completely absurd, since she barely knew him, yet… she knew she couldn't lose him.

Emma shook her head, wearing the pants over fresh underwear – Regina must have conjured it since it was bold and made of fine cotton – finding a decent blouse, its airy sleeves closing around her elbows and continuing in frills. It wasn't her style at all, but she'd make it do. After all, she'd once passed from silk clothes to scratchy linens, another change in her clothing didn't scare her.

She fastened the burgundy leather vest with a belt, its buckle a bit too much exaggerated and finished her look with a dark reddish-brown cloak. Regina had thought about everything, she'd even conjured a duffel bag, way bigger than the one Emma was used to, and full of comfortable clothes – and underwear with too much lace and too many ribbons to just be _comfortable_. She surely had left her money and, being the good teacher that she was, Regina had left a little chest with her crest on it. Unsurprisingly, it contained potions and ingredients to make more. What was surprising, instead, was a grimoire with spells she'd never attempted to cast in all her life.

Closing the chest and sealing it with blood magic – _that_ she could do – Emma weaved her hair into a loose braid. Her finger brushed the swan necklace nestled between her breasts, another wave of nostalgia lapped at her. Shaking away the feeling, she put the boots on, noticing they were too soft to be hers. Regina must have tampered with them, too. She tightened the belt with her sword around her hips, adding a dagger to the belt at her waist and one inside her right boot.

With a last glance at the mirror, she grabbed the bag and put the chest inside, knowing the vials wouldn't break, for they'd been enchanted to resist every fall or jostling.

Emma was about to step out of the room when she turned around, her cheeks burning, and grabbed the nightgown, stuffing it into the bag without thinking about it too much. She feared that if she did, she would regret it later.

Once downstairs, the flavour of coffee and sausages filled her nostrils, opening her stomach. She was so hungry she could eat an ox.

«Good morning, sleeping beauty,» Granny greeted her, placing in front of her a mug of steaming coffee and a plate with scrambled eggs and two thick sausages – she'd always loved meat, but spending years with werewolves made her love it even more.

«How's Red?» she asked in response, sitting on the stool and grabbing her fork.

Granny cracked two more eggs into the pan, but Emma noticed her shoulders stiffen slightly. «She's fine,» the woman replied harshly, «she needs rest, but will heal quickly. Her mother is taking care of her, and Graham too. You don't have to worry.»

Emma scoffed. «You know I'd worry anyway. And that I wouldn't leave if I didn't have to,» she sighed, chewing on her eggs but without actually tasting them. Granny must notice her reluctance and arched a brow. Blushing, Emma stuck a forkful of eggs in her mouth.

«I worry, too. Especially about letting you go where I cannot follow,» the woman said, cutting a large portion of chocolate cake she never baked unless Emma was there. It was covered with cinnamon glaze and reminded her of the one she used to steal from the kitchens when she still lived in the castle. «However,» Granny continued, pulling her away from the ghosts of the past, «young Jones seems to be ready to protect you regardless the cost.»

Emma frowned, chewing on the sausages instead, a piece of bread already in her hand, ready to be used to clean the sauce left on the plate. «I've saved his life, he feels like he's in debt.» _Yet he didn't use that excuse_ , a voice in her mind reminded her.

The glare the old wolf aimed at her made Emma's breath catch in her throat. No, it wasn't just gratitude or sense of duty, but something else entirely, something deeper she couldn't – she _wouldn't_ – put a name on. There was a bond, she could feel it, her magic answered to his presence and it scared her.

Regina always told her magic was emotion, she'd learnt that at her own expense, losing her first love at her mother's hand. At first, Regina had blamed Emma's mother, Snow, but then she'd understood only Cora was to blame.

«Have it your way, my girl,» Granny grumbled, starting to put the provisions into a sack. From the other side of the counter, Emma noticed another bag full of fine weapons.

Her technique with the sword had improved through the years, starting from what her father and Lancelot had taught her before George forced her to run. For what concerned her aim, instead, it was pretty good, but nothing compared to her mother's or Robin's. She was skilled in knife-throwing, though.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Killian staring at a bowl of fruit with anger, as if he wanted to make it rot under his eyes. She wasn't sure, but his rage seemed to be directed at the captain of the guards. She'd heard what he'd said to Killian, insulting his brother's memory. She would've reacted the same way if someone had sullied her beloveds' names: they could hurt her as much as they wanted, but nobody must touch her family.

That was the whole reason why she'd escaped, wasn't it? With George settling for keeping her away so her parents would suffer, Emma had at least avoided the war her so-called grandfather could move against Misthaven.

Nobody knew why exactly he wanted her away from her family, all she knew was that he wanted to make her father suffer. He didn't care about her brother Leo, he never had, only her. Which was weird, but with her being the firstborn and his little girl, not to mention she was the Crown Princess. Still. Because no matter what, unless she died, she would always be the Crown Princess.

She'd tried to tell her parents it would be safer if Leo took the title, but they still had hope. Thinking about it always melted her heart: how could her parents still have hope when she hadn't any left?

Emma sighed, looking down at her now empty plate. She didn't know what the future had in store for her, all she knew was that what she was living wasn't life at all. And that, unless she could find a way to kill off George, she would never live.

«Don't,» Granny admonished her, «time will make its course, not even Cora can make him live forever. She's powerful, but not that much.»

«The Dark One could, it wouldn't be the first time.»

«He knows better than giving George what he wants, he doesn't have anything valuable for him.»

«But he could, _Cora_ could, all I know is that I can't go home.» Emma had raised her voice, which broke at the end. She felt like a petulant child, but she couldn't help it, she felt like… like a lost girl.

With a sigh, Granny placed a piece of chocolate cake in front of her. «We'll let you know if something changes. You know Regina won't stop until her mother is dead.»

«Yes, that I do, but I also know that she's not as evil as Cora is, she chose not to be. If only I was able to… to _do something_!» The fire in the oven and the one in the hearth roared, scaring Granny. The candles all around the tavern flickered. «Sorry, sorry!»

With a deep breath, Emma was able to calm down the fire, her hands clenched into trembling fists. She felt Killian's eyes on her but she wasn't ready to face him. Somehow, she knew one day she would have to.

«That's why you can't,» Granny replied, «you are powerful, yes, but you can't control your magic, not enough to face Cora on your own. You are only twenty, Emma.»

 _At my age Regina had already pushed her mother through a looking glass_ , she thought bitterly, gulping down a mouthful of chocolate cake. She knew Granny was partially right, the fact that she hadn't been trained was an obstacle. If she tried to face Cora and she couldn't conjure her magic… Emma shook her head.

Maybe… maybe that journey, her new life – another one, but way more thrilling than the one with the werewolves – would help her learn. _Hopefully_. She almost snorted.

«This just… seems like running. Again.»

«Would you rather face Cora and die? Or risk your family's lives?»

Emma inhaled sharply. That was a low blow, yet true. If she as much as dared going near the palace, Cora's spell would be enacted. Regina was smart, but her mother, oh, her mother was so much darker. Both Regina and the fairies had surrounded Misthaven with a magic barrier, but Cora had surrounded the barrier itself with a spell that would be triggered by Emma's touch.

She'd been foolish, thinking the barrier would protect her, but oh, she'd been so wrong. She'd almost died, a cruel laugh ringing in her ears as her heart nearly stopped. Emma shuddered at the memory.

A warm hand on her shoulder startled her. Instinctively she reached for the dagger at her waist. «Easy, lass,» Killian's warm voice shushed her, and suddenly a calm feeling flooded through her. «Something's troubling you?» For some reason, Emma thought he already knew. _Of course_ he already knew.

«Yes, but nothing that should concern you,» Emma replied with a tight smile. _Not yet_ , her mind added. One day she would tell him the truth about her magic, how some spells were easier than others while sometimes her magic just didn't respond her commands.

In his eyes, Emma could see acceptance, but not defeat. Killian Jones was a fighter, and he loved a challenge. She knew she didn't exactly owe him an explanation, but at the same time she did, because he was sacrificing something for her when he didn't have to.

Killian nodded, his eyes telling her she could confide in him whenever she was ready. It gave her a strange feeling, a good one. «We have to set sail soon. I made arrangements, you'll stay in m- the first mate's cabin. I gather you'll need your own space, you won't be disturbed.»

Emma was astonished. Yes, Anita had made sure she would get a good accommodation, but nothing as fancy as a whole cabin entirely for her. «T-thank you,» she stammered. «Is there anything I'll need to do?»

He shook his head. «You needn't worry, princess, you'll be my guest,» Killian assured her, a soft smile on his lips.

Now, that was surprising. With Anita, she had her own chores, which was logical, since they were a pack and she was, somewhat, part of it: she was Ruby's goddaughter and for the pack it was enough for them to treat her as one of theirs.

With a crew it was different, that much she knew, yet she knew they had to be trustworthy men, loyal to their captain. She wasn't used being just a guest, she had to do something. Emma supressed a smile remembering Ruby telling her she would make a restless Queen.

«I don't like being cooped up like a bird in a cage,» Emma said through her teeth, she didn't want to trade a caged life for another.

Killian frowned. «That's not what I meant at all. If you want to make yourself useful, be my guest, but let me tell you how it works on my ship: I make the demands, you follow them. Are you sure you can handle it?» A shudder ran down her spine when he emphasized the _t_ , a pleasant one she didn't want to acknowledge.

«Perhaps you are the one who couldn't handle it,» Emma spoke before she could stop herself, enjoying the way his eyes darkened and darted towards her lips. She couldn't help it, she looked at his mouth, soft lips she felt the urge to kiss. And she would've done it if Granny hadn't chosen that same moment to politely cough, drawing their attention to her. «Yes?» Gods, her voice was pathetically breathless.

«Everything's ready. You might want to hurry, George will send other men, _more_ men.» Granny's words were tinted with sorrow.

With a curt nod, Killian effortlessly grabbed the duffel full of weapons. «I'll be waiting outside. Widow Lucas, it has been a pleasure. Thank you for everything.» At his words, Granny smiled, and Emma's eyes nearly fell out of her head.

When the tavern's door closed behind him, Emma turned to Granny, her mouth agape. «You smiled! You never smile at strangers!»

«Killian Jones is not a stranger,» Granny retorted, dropping another piece of chocolate cake on Emma's plate. «I know him since before he became a pirate, actually, though he never stepped foot in here to empty my barrels of rum since a few years ago. Though I have to say, he does apologize quite nicely, bringing me some fine ale from his voyages.»

«Do you trust him?» Emma couldn't help but ask.

The woman smiled sadly. « _I_ do, but do you?»

Emma frowned. Did she trust him? _No_ , she wanted to say, she was sure she didn't trust him, not completely. Apparently, her heart didn't agree with her mind. «I don't know.»

«You think you can give him the benefit of the doubt?»

Her eyebrows knitted together. «I suppose. I think I already am,» she answered slowly. Feelings weren't something she was familiar with, she'd always lived – _survived_ – trusting people she knew she could trust and being wary of all the strangers she met. For her, there'd never been a grey zone. And Killian Jones was there, darkness touching him but beneath his heart was red.

«Then you'll have to find that answer along the way. I can't make the decision for you, Emma, you'll have to trust your own heart, like your parents do.»

With chocolate crumbles still on the corners of her mouth, Emma ran to the other side of the counter and hugged Granny tightly – maybe a little too much, but the woman certainly didn't complain. Granny wrapped her strong arms around Emma, stroking her back as she often did. There were tears in both women's eyes and cracks in their hearts, the only healing balm the promise that they would see each other again, one day.

«It's time,» Granny whispered in her ear, «I can feel him becoming restless in front of the door. Don't let him ruin those boots he has, it'd be a pity.»

With a chuckle, Emma pulled away from Granny, wiping her eyes with her hands. «Heaven forbid!» she smiled, grabbing the sack full of food. «I can't thank you enough, Granny. I… I will write whenever I can, I promise.»

Granny nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind Emma's ear. «Be safe, Emma,» she said with a slight tremor in her voice. She would not cry but that didn't mean she wasn't suffering.

With a soft smile, Emma pressed a kiss to Granny's cheek before nodding. Fighting the need to burst into tears, Emma turned her back to the older woman and made her way towards the door. _There's no turning back_ , she thought, gripping the handle so tightly her knuckles turned white.

When she swung the door open, she was met with cerulean eyes tinted with concern. Emma took a few instants to get lost in those irises, just a bit, just a taste of what losing in them would mean. Did she really wanted to know? Perhaps she did.

«I'm ready,» she breathed, the lie tangible in her voice but he didn't say a word about it. «Shall we?»

With a nod, Killian adjusted the sack on his shoulder and led her towards the docks where several ships and smaller boats were anchored. A small smile formed on his lips as they neared the biggest of them all, a beautiful ship painted in white, blue and gold. It reminded her of a Navy ship, but with no knowledge whatsoever about ships she could be wrong.

«Behold! The Jolly Roger,» he exclaimed, pride strong in his voice. He must really love that ship, much like Graham loved the wolves, like you'd love your own home. It wasn't just the ship, it was what the ship meant to him, and once again she wanted to know everything about Killian Jones.

«It's… beautiful,» Emma told him, not sure about what to say. A compliment would do, right?

« _She_ ,» he corrected her, «is. She's made of enchanted wood, the Jolly is far more precious than some would think.»

Hearing those words, Emma understood he wasn't talking just about the economic value of the ship. Yet, there was something she couldn't understand. «When you say _she_ 's made of enchanted wood, what does that imply? Does she fly or whatever?»

A muscle pulsed in his jaw but he forced a smile. «Not quite,» he mysteriously replied, adding a wink to his phrase. They reached the gangplank and he stepped aside. «Milady,» Killian invited her to proceed with a mocking bow and she had to bit her lip to conceal a smile.

It'd been _years_ since she'd stepped foot on a ship, her last voyage one up North of which she didn't remember much. «You take this gentleman thing quite seriously.»

«Ah, love, I'm _always_ a gentleman,» Killian replied behind her, his voice low. Yes, he was a gentleman, but she'd seen in his eyes a hunger not gentlemanly at all.

The moment she was with both her feet on the deck, Emma looked around. Several members of the crew was furtively looking at her but none of them said anything. «I trust my men,» Killian's voice, so soft and close to her ear, made her jump, «they won't betray me, therefore they won't betray you. It might sound unbelievable, but you're safe here.» _You're safe with me_.

Emma nodded slowly, sincerely grateful. Many feared George, and even more feared Cora, nobody would risk their lives to go against the two of them, which meant there was something more than simple hate for the King behind Killian's motives. Still, Emma wasn't one to look a gifted horse in the mouth.

Killian led her to the quarterdeck, other men gathered there to finish off the preparations before the departure. As she looked around, trying to memorize everything she saw, Emma felt his eyes on her. «W-what is it?» she asked, lowering her gaze onto the stainless deck.

«You'll be in need of a new name. Or, rather, of a surname. As much as I trust my men, wherever will go, nobody must know who you are, your true identity will be known only to me.»

 _Well_ , that was… logic. Smart, too. If George ever wanted to change the rules and offer a reward for her capture, let her use her title would be fatal. Emma nodded. «Good idea,» she muttered, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, not knowing which surname she could ever use, she'd never had one, and she couldn't use Misthaven, that would be as bad as introducing herself as the Crown Princess.

«What about Swan?»

Surprised, Emma looked up at Killian. «I beg your pardon?» His cheeks were now pink, the tips of his ears of a deep red. She had to bit her tongue to stop herself from smiling. It was cute. _He_ was cute. That thought made her blush, too.

«Your freckles,» he stammered, now as red as she was. «On your stomach. When I helped Widow Lucas tending your wound I noticed your freckles, and the ones on your ribs form the Cygnus constellation.»

Her mouth agape, Emma couldn't come up with a smart reply. For a moment, before his explanation, she'd thought he knew about her father's nickname for her. Of course he couldn't, but she hadn't been called Swan in a long time.

King David had always called Emma his Swan Princess, always telling her she might feel like an ugly duckling, but to him she'd always be a swan. That was her favourite fairytale when she was little. A sad smile graced her lips at the memory of herself nestling against her father late at night, was it in the library, on her bed or her parents' or even in any other room of the castle, especially on the seat of that big window that overlooked the water, and David reading to her. She rarely stayed awake to hear the whole story, but in the morning she always found herself back into her bed, her pirate – _she_ used to call it her pirate, since it probably was a naval officer with the hat he had – and knight dolls looking after her as she slept.

She smiled, looking at Killian with gratitude. «Emma Swan,» she tried, the name rolling off her tongue with ease.

«It has a nice sound to it,» he said, lowering his eyes to the pendant she wore. «Apparently, the swan means something more to you than what I believed.»

Emma blushed, nodding her head. «It does,» she confirmed, «and, apparently, my freckles are constellations.» She was satisfied with the way the red on his cheeks rushed back, his neck now red, too.

A moment passed in which neither of them looked away from each other, green lost in a sea of blue, a sea she was to drown in, a sea she wasn't afraid of. And that, that scared her.

«We need to cast off,» he murmured, as lost in her as she was in him. Emma nodded, and Killian, reluctantly, stepped towards the helm. «Ahoy, ye bilge rats,» he boomed, his voice completely different from the tone he'd used with her.

A shiver ran down her spine, somewhat, Killian's captain voice _excited_ her. _As if his normal voice already didn't_ , a voice inside her head scoffed.

«Where to, Captain?» a man with a red hat asked.

Killian glanced at Emma for a moment, a smirk on his lips. She smiled back at him, her heart thundering in her chest, ready to leave her past behind and just _feel_.

«Wherever the sea take us, we're going on an adventure!»


	4. a new day has begun

Chapter 4 – a new day has begun

There was something to say about living on a ship, even merely a week in her journey: the sea lulled her to sleep like nothing else in the world. Well, maybe just her father's voice reading her stories could compare.

Emma opened one eye, the light in the cabin soft and warm. They were sailing north-east, somewhere she'd never been. Well, she'd never been in many places, all those years on the run were spent either near Misthaven or in the werewolves' den, the farthest she'd gone was her aunt Ella's kingdom.

She buried herself under the blanket, knowing she had to dress up soon. Her stomach grumbled, and she grumbled back in response. With a sigh, she stood, tying her hair in a ponytail. Although she missed home, and at times even the beautiful gowns, Emma didn't mind being able of taking care of her hair or dressing up all by herself. Another thing she didn't mind was being able to let her hair down. Of course, her mother frowned upon her dirty clothes when she came back from sword training at most, not bothering with telling her she should dress like a lady or sit through hours of pampering to have perfect hair, but sometimes, especially when they had guests, Emma had to wear hairpins and let her maid bride or pull her hair tightly behind her head. That hurt.

She dressed slowly, trying to actually wake up first. The ship never slept, it – _she_ – might be quiet but many were still awake. _Of course they are_ , Emma thought, a ship couldn't steer herself, after all. Oh, well, she _shouldn't_ be able to, at least.

Killian had told her about the Jolly being made of enchanted wood, but never about her powers or abilities. Emma _felt_ the Jolly's magic, the quiet, familiar hum that echoed her own magic. One thing she knew for sure was that she couldn't control the ship. Actually, no one could, except for Killian, but it wasn't control either, it was more along the lines of respect, as if he gently asked the ship something and she replied. And though Emma wanted to understand their bond, she also found it very intimate, something solely between the Captain and his ship.

The bright light blinded her as she stepped foot on deck but she quickly adjusted to the sun. Her stomach grumbled again, especially after breathing in, under the salty smell she could sense coffee and bread. It wasn't a royal feast, the breakfasts she used to do as a child were just a distant memory and sometimes a longing, but she'd had worse, sometimes even nothing to sink her teeth into until many hours later.

«Morning, Captain,» Emma greeted Killian, who was standing against the railing tying knots, his brows lowered in concentration. He lifted his eyes on her, a smile spreading on his face when he took her in. Emma couldn't help but blush a little.

«Good morning, Swan,» he said in return and Emma couldn't help but feel her heart do somersaults in her chest. It ended up always like that when he called her Swan. «The coffee is especially good this morning, thanks to our last trip to Agrabah we have one of the best. Alas, bread and jam are always the same ones.»

«Hey, I like that jam,» Emma retorted, feigning irritation, a smile threatening to make its way on her mask where the blush on her cheeks still rested.

Cocking an eyebrow, Killian chuckled. «Don't I know it,» he mused shaking his head, «you and Smee are the only ones who actually eat marmalade, but he could eat everything.»

Emma shrugged. «It reminds me of the one Granny used to make for me at the castle,» she confessed, looking away towards the horizon where blue met blue, one lighter shade fading into the darker one. «Orange jam was my favourite, followed by peach and strawberries.» Emma closed her eyes, elbows on the wooden railing. «I always had hot chocolate for breakfast, mother always tried to get me to drink more tea and even coffee, but I always ended up having hot chocolate. I was a bit spoiled, I admit it, at least when it came to my favourite drink. Which, by the way, is my mother's too, she just wanted me to be more ladylike, I guess.»

«Or, perhaps,» he said, his voice so near and his breath brushing her cheek, «she didn't want you to become fat.»

Gasping, Emma opened her eyes and looked at him with her mouth agape. If she'd still been a princess, she would've been outraged and would've hit him with a fan. But they were in the middle of the ocean, and he was joking. «How dare you!» she breathed trying to hold back her laugh as she swatted him on the arm. Her mother would be shocked by her attitude.

Killian just laughed. «Think about it, sitting down all day doing whatever a princess does doesn't help your form.»

Mouth still hanging open, Emma placed her hands on her hips, lifting her chin. «I must inform you that I didn't use to sit down all day long. I might be a princess, but I am also good with a sword. And with a bow and arrows. And daggers. _And_ magic.»

Once again, Killian feigned shock. «I'm impressed, you don't often hear about warrior princesses.» He was playing her, his playful smirk one she would've liked to slap off his face – or kiss.

Abruptly, Emma shook her head. No, she couldn't go there, not when she already found herself staring at him while he was otherwise occupied or, late at night, in her bed, where her mind ran free and she couldn't stop thinking about him at all.

«We can settle the matter with a duel.» Now every trace of playfulness had disappeared from his face at her words. «What, do I need to slap you with a glove? Give me thirty seconds and I'll be back with one of mine.»

Before she could turn around his hand found her wrist. «I was merely joking, Emma.» If her heart fluttered whenever he called her Swan, the rare times he called her with her name it did things she couldn't even name.

«I wasn't,» she confessed. While she didn't long for a duel, she still needed a proper training. Of course she knew the basis, but the rest she'd learned while on the run, watching other people fight and trying to save her own life more than once. Her magic helped her, at times, when she panicked and couldn't move at all, but not always. She was good, but sparring with Killian? That would've given her more experience.

Tilting his head, as if trying to search a lie in her eyes. Or was he searching fear? «Go have your marmalade, lass, then we can spar.»

There was a threat in there, she knew it, but not one that meant death, no, it was one that promised _fun_. With a nod, Emma ran towards the galley, where the cook, Cookson, whose brother was Black Murphy – it was so strange thinking about them as brothers since they were like night and day – had already arranged a plate for her with hot bread and orange jam, a mug of steamy coffee next to it.

«You're a man after my own heart, Cookson,» she sighed, sitting down on one of the long benches. Other members of the crew were digging into their more rich breakfasts, grunting greetings between mouthfuls.

«Ah, miss Swan, 'tis my belief that the only way to win a woman's or man's heart is through their stomachs,» the cook replied as he served another pirate a plate full of sausages. She'd once wondered – aloud – how they could manage so much food in their holds and he'd tell her it was a spell the Captain had bought from a trusted woman after he'd failed to keep their men on the right path and eat boiled mackerel and grapefruit juice. Both her and Killian couldn't quite deny the men's logic: with a richer… salary, they could afford to buy more food, and with the spell Killian had bought they wouldn't have to be afraid of scurvy anymore, or other diseases.

Besides, eating boiled fish every day would be a torture for her. «And here I thought it was liver for men,» she couldn't help but snort into her mug of coffee.

«That, too,» one of the pirates confirmed, «but someone capable of cook like Cookson here? That's someone I could die for.»

«Now, now, enough with the declarations of eternal love,» Cookson said, not uncomfortable at all, «you'll be needed on deck soon and the Captains doesn't allow lateness on his ship.»

The pirate snorted, a laugh escaping his lips. «You'd think he still is that old Lieutenant with a broom stuck up his arse.»

Now, _that_ was interesting. She already had her suspicions about where the ship came from, but from how Killian cherished her he couldn't have just bought her or stolen her, the Jolly Roger was so much more for him than a loot. If he'd been a Lieutenant – probably in George's Navy – and had served on this ship, that meant he hated the man almost as much as she did. Probably. Well, to steal a ship and turn into a pirate he must have.

«Watch your mouth, Starkey,» another pirate hissed, «we might be pirates now, but we all were Navy men once, the fact that you were the only one whose flask of rum ended in the water doesn't change that.»

Other pirates laughed at the exchange, but Emma was frowning. _So they aren't a crew formed by outlaws and assassins_ , she mused, biting down on the toasted bread with a cavity-worthy amount of orange jam.

Lost in her thought, she missed the rest of the conversation, but what she'd learned was enough. Even when on the run, Emma had never heard of some Navy man turning against George, let alone an entire crew of officers. Why, though? Why did those men turn against their own King? She didn't know much about how George treated his men, but being a naval officer, especially a high-ranked one as Killian had been, well, it wasn't something you wrinkled your nose in disgust at. Being a Navy man meant a good salary, food, many weeks away from home, but enough money to have one and maintain a family. And George's men seemed to be treated well, at least those she'd encountered.

No, it wasn't about the money, it was something else entirely. Was it something related to the brother Randall had insulted during their duel? But what, exactly? Had George killed him? That would explain Killian's hate, but the other men's? Unless they also knew his brother, but… was it enough? No, there was something else, a piece of the puzzle she was missing.

Shaking her head, Emma left those thoughts in a corner of her mind and finished her breakfast. She had a duel to attend, and as much as the idea thrilled her, it also scared her. Of course, she knew Killian wouldn't hurt her, that wasn't what she was afraid of, what scared her was that he could laugh at her rough thecnique. Emma remembered her father's, how his every movement was neat and precise; Lancelot's, a bit more forceful and lethal while hers was… weak and too direct. She didn't know much about strategy, she just knew that the pointed end went into the other person.

But, of course, Killian Jones was probably too much of a gentleman to laugh at her. Maybe he could even teach her something, pirate ways or whatever.

Killian was still tying knots, this time on the other side of the ship. The fact that he took care of some of the chores had stopped surprising her after three days on the Jolly. Added to the fact that apparently he'd been a Lieutenant, that made sense: he might still feel not completely a captain so he kept doing what he used to do before. And, maybe, that was his way to still have control over his life.

«You've taken your time, I see,» Killian commented without moving his eyes from the rope in his hands. He wasn't wearing the heavy leather coat nor one his usual vests, just a loose black shirt which he didn't seem to know how to button up. Emma gulped at the sight of his chest hair, something she never though she could ever find attractive in a man, yet here she was, wanting to explore here that hair led.

Gulping, she came back to herself. «Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,» she retorted, raising a golden eyebrow.

«Indeed it is, but you usually spend no more than half an hour with your orange marmalade, today you've been in the galley almost for fifty minutes,» he explained, finally looking up at her, amusement and curiosity in his eyes.

«Are you keeping track of how I spend my time?» Emma asked harshly. She didn't like people knowing where she was, it was a habit she'd picked up with time; mostly, she didn't want to be controlled.

Killian shook his head. «I need to know where all my men are, Swan. I could tell you who's sleeping in the crew's quarters or who kept you company in the galley, if you want.»

 _Oh_ , well, that was… logical. Probably. «Yeah, well, you promised me to spar, didn't you?» Emma replied, impatience creeping under her skin.

«That I did.» Tying the last knot – and no, Emma absolutely _didn't_ notice how the black shirt clung to his biceps as he worked – Killian nodded towards the center of the deck. «This will help you when you're duelling on a ship, whether we get boarded or board another ship you'll have to know how to move on deck, how to use every part of the ship at your advantage.»

The way he said "advantage" made her shiver, goosebumps rising on her arms at the way his voice curved around each letter. She was in so much trouble. «You don't expect me to stay below deck, hidden in some secret room or something?»

That made him chuckle. «I know that if I asked you to, you wouldn't, so I won't waste my time,» Killian explained; it seemed he knew her too well for her liking, but she didn't correct him. It was true, she wouldn't hide, not even from other pirates.

With a movement she would classify as erotic, Killian unsheathed his sword – there just _was_ a double meaning somewhere – and cocked an eyebrow at her, waiting.

Suddenly agitated, Emma did the same, the two swords different in many ways. They circled around, both of them waiting for the other to attack. Nobody moved, until Emma lunged forward when she saw him too relaxed. She had to know it was a ruse.

Killian parred without any effort, the blow reverberating through her arm. «Never attack first, Swan, unless you know your adversary's technique. Or if you know you're stronger and faster than him. You may be faster than I am, but I am stronger while my technique isn't quite fair, let put it this way.»

«Pirate,» Emma commented harshly. She sighed, knowing that he was _teaching_ her something important, just her father and Lancelot had done. _Killian_ definitely _isn't father or Lance_ , she mused, coming back to reality quickly because, this time, Killian attacked first.

«And never lose focus.»

 _Cheeky bastard_ , Emma thought, barely parring his lunge. A whiff of his scent reached her nose, masculine but not aggressive. _Gods_.

Gathering her strengths, Emma pushed him away, lunging forward without losing her footing. That was the problem, mostly, but she was good at keeping balance. Her blow, however, was dodged, Killian stepping aside, the tip of his cutlass now pressed between her shoulder blades.

«I think we need to work on strategy first, Swan, I really wonder how you've been able to survive all these years.»

Red in shame, Emma turned to face him. «What I know was enough,» she spit through her teeth.

«What you know won't be enough out there, Emma.» _Damned be him, damned be the way he says my name and damned be the concern shining in his eyes_. Sighing, he bowed his head. «We can try again, if you want.»

Not waiting for her to attack, Killian surprised her, their sword clashing as she barely parred, his cutlass just a few inches from her face. Emma ducked, retreating her sword and trying a lunge of her own, this time coming closer to his body than she'd ever done before. She counted that as a small victory.

Killian pushed her away, his strength unmeasured against her: he wanted her to understand that in a fight her adversary wouldn't be gentle.

Gasping, Emma tripped backwards, falling on the raised part of the deck. Gritting her teeth, she hooked a foot around one of Killian's ankles and made him lose his balance, too. Unfortunately for her, he didn't fall on his arse like she had, but his chaotic tumble was worth it anyway.

«Nice try, Swan,» he complimented her, holding out his hand to her. «You'll need to learn some other tricks in the future, use what makes you stronger than the others.»

«If you mean my magic…»

«Not at all,» he corrected her, «I meant your agility, your brain. Don't be impulsive, love, be smart.»

Emma couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. «How come I've never been defeated during a duel before? I've dealt with George's men more than once before that night.»

At that, Killian tilted his head on the side, long locks of hair dangling in front of his blue eyes. «The real question is: did they wanted you dead?»

She was about to reply when, thinking about it, she had to admit none of them had actually wanted to kill her. George didn't want her dead, he threatened to kill her, but if he had to he'd do it in front of her father, no doubt.

«Then why the poisoned dagger?» Emma wondered with a frown.

«It could have been a way to threaten you… or to kill your friends. Without their protection, you wouldn't have had anywhere to go.» Killian's words hurt her more than the knife in her side had. He pressed his calloused hand against her cheek, caressing her soft skin with his ringed thumb. «If he wants you far from home he won't hurt them, and I'll be damned if I'll let him even set sight on you.»

Emma regaled him with a grateful yet sad smile, George's sick game was too much to bear at times, especially when she stopped to think about what she'd left behind. If she ever thought her death could spare her parents and friends, she would've handed herself to George and let him take her life, but that wouldn't do it, he needed her alive to continue the game and her family would be destroyed by her death.

«Come on, I'll teach you how to take a proper stance,» Killian said, cutlass back in its sheath, moving behind her.

Emma's breath itched when she felt his body warmth through her clothes, her treacherous mind wondering how he would feel _without_ any clothes on. _Focus, Emma_ , she reprimanded herself, she couldn't think about him like that, mostly because _he_ didn't.

His hand travelled slowly down her right arm, his finger closing around her wrist as he taught her how to move. «Widen your stance, but never wider than your shoulders,» Killian breathed in her ear, and she resolved to conjure a very cold tub of water later.

Killian's body lingered for a moment against her back before he pulled back, leaving her with a sense of loss she shouldn't feel. «Tell me, if I attacked you like this,» he began, lunging forward, his cutlass a few inches from her waist, «how would you par?»

Rotating her wrist, Emma brought her sword down between her body and his cutlass. «Like this, though I wouldn't have enough strength to push you away. If I'm close enough to my adversary, I'd probably attempt to cut off his arm.»

Killian laughed, a warm and rich sound that warmed her up. «That's a good idea, but I think that if your adversary was this close to you, you'd be dead already. You can block the movement alright, but better yet, you could dodge it. Try and attack me like that.»

Following his orders, Emma lunged forward. Surprisingly fast, Killian stepped aside, turned halfway on the spot and brought his cutlass down onto her sword, which she let go and clanged onto the deck.

«That's… impressive,» Emma said with wide eyes. «Father never taught me anything like that, though I think Lance would have.»

«Forgive me if I'm wrong, Swan, but how old were you when you started your training? Surely you didn't start out with actual swords, and I think it mostly was a pastime.»

Emma grimaced. «I was pretty young and I thought – still think, to be honest – my father hung the moon, so I begged him to teach me to slay dragons as he had done. Only when I was seven he started training me, but it was still kind of a game, not like with Lance. But then I was twelve and George attacked us. We were on our way to the winter's palace when he attacked us. His men and Cora's heartless guards ambushed us and then George appeared, telling us he was finally able to get his revenge on my father. Cora made me disappear in her usual cloud of smoke and I ended up in my aunt Ella's kingdom. I asked for her help, and she helped me go back to Misthaven, only to find out that my grandmother's barrier had been covered up by another one created to hurt only me and my relatives: I couldn't enter the kingdom as much as my parents couldn't exit it. Only once I was able to bear the pain and enter the barrier, but as soon as I reached one of the underground tunnels, Cora appeared. She said she was impressed I could actually made it through the barrier but added that George had made a deal with her and I had to stay away. She sent me in the woods where I was found by Ruby, but when I came back to Misthaven another spell had been added to the barrier.» Tears were now running down her cheeks, her voice low and trembling as she breathed out the last words. «She had made sure I couldn't see the castle, nor whoever wandered near.»

She actually didn't know how she'd gone from telling him about her fencing lessons with her father to how her situation had started out.

Warm arms circled her small figure in an awkward hug due to them still having their sword in hand, but a hug nonetheless. With her free hand she clutched his shirt between her fingers, her head finding its place in the crook of his neck. For a moment, Emma wondered what the crew would think, but the truth was that she didn't _care_. It probably was the princess in her, but she didn't regret that hug. How could she? Killian was being her friend, something she never thought she could have outside Misthaven.

When you were royalty, having friends was… difficult to say the least. Growing up she'd never had a true friend, apart from Alexandra – whom she hadn't seen in years – and Roland. Ruby and Graham were another matter entirely, they were family.

Despite the three rings around them, Killian's fingers didn't pull her hair, weaving their way through the golden strands. «We will find a way, Emma, I promise you, even if we have to search all the existing realms and beyond.»

His promise scared her because it was so serious she almost believed they could find a way to dispose of George and Cora and bring down that damned barrier. «Sounds quite the adventure,» she tried to joke, denying the pull she felt at the word. She didn't know what would've happened if she'd stayed at the castle, if she'd been raised as a princess all her life, but that longing for adventures was now instilled inside her.

«Aye, that it does.»

Pulling away, Emma's cheeks were a deep red. She brushed away the tears with her hand and looked back at him. «Again?» she asked holding up her sword. «I promise I'll try to understand how to _properly_ fight.»

Killian chuckled, a flicker of pride shining in his eyes. «You already know, you just need to pay attention, Swan.» With that, he attacked her, watching how swiftly she parred his blow. Emma wasn't stupid, she was just a bit rusty and her technique nothing he couldn't rectify. He was training her, much like he'd been when in the Navy.

When he'd been Silver's slave he knew how to swordfight, sure, but his blows were blind and more than once a blade had cut his skin because he didn't know how to properly par. Only when he'd joined the Navy he'd started to understand how strategy worked and how he had to study the weaknesses of his opponents before attacking. Every fight was won with brains, not with brute force. Unless your adversary was someone two times bigger than you. Even in those cases, though, intelligence wasn't to be underestimated.

They kept training until lunchtime, Killian giving her tips and adjusting her stance and hold, while the crewmen sometimes stopped what they were doing to watch them with amusement. None of them said anything, the Captain and Swan weren't the first ones to practice on deck, after all.

After a hearty meal consisting in smoked pork, Emma went back to her cabin, stinking with sweat and sore beyond belief. She almost couldn't feel her right arm anymore, and her back was _wrecked_ , not to mention her legs; it was a miracle she was still able to stand, let alone walk.

Locking the door behind her – she kind of trusted the crew at this point, but she'd learnt to be extremely cautious; besides, they were _still_ men and she wasn't comfortable with leaving the door open – Emma sighed, leaning back against the hard wood. Tiredly, she waved her hand and a tub full of hot, steamy water appeared in the center. Knowing Killian was in his cabin, too, Emma flicked her wrist once more, hearing a loud thump and a curse. She couldn't help but giggle.

She actually didn't know why she'd done that, probably because he'd been nice to her and she wanted to do something nice for him. And also because he'd told her a hot bath was something he didn't indulge very often when at sea despite him being a very clean person: he took great care of his own body, ablutions and all that, not a touch of dirt under his fingernails either, much like the rest of the men. It was a Navy thing, probably.

Living with the wolves had always kept her on edge, they could smell _everything_ and that had pushed her to bathe more often than a child ever wanted to, but right now she counted it as a blessing.

Stripping of her clothes, she sat down in the tub, relaxing instantly. During lunch, Killian had told her they'd make port next week, something about cargo to sell and such. He'd told her they were returning from Agrabah and she was just _dying_ to go there, or everywhere, really. She longed to see the world, and now she had the chance to.

Laughing, she'd suggested he was a merchant of sorts, at which he'd grumbled but didn't exactly correct her. In his defence, she knew that making deals and being owed favours was good for business, and piracy was a tad bit illegal one. For a moment, she wondered what her parents would say about this, and wondered if her own kingdom's laws would apply to her, too. Probably not, her parents would find a loophole of sorts, or bury the matter entirely.

Bubbles surrounded her and she magicked a glass vial of rose-scented oil. She'd noticed that when she was relaxed her magic was easier to control; with her mind free of any thoughts she could move the world, apparently. And therein lay the problem: how could she use her magic if, under pressure, she couldn't?

Sighing, she poured a bit of the oil into the tub, more bubbles forming on the water's surface. Emma leaned her head back onto the wooden edge, making the vial disappear in a cloud of white-grey smoke.

Reaching behind her head to free her hair, Emma let her blonde locks fall over her shoulders and into the water, creating golden fibres that sinuously moved underwater. At first, she kept her arms onto the edges of the tub, but the more she thought about her magic, the more she thought about the surge of power she'd felt when she'd thought Killian was going to die, and the more she thought about Killian, the more she thought about her morning, and the more she thought about her morning, the more she thought about how he probably was in her same position, in the tub, _naked_.

A moan escaped her lips. No, she couldn't deny it anymore, not even to herself – or maybe she could admit it only to herself: she was attracted to Killian. More than that, Emma had never felt that much attracted to someone.

There'd been boys she'd fancied, but her first thought was how to survive and how to go home. Now… now she didn't have to simply survive, as for how to go home, she trusted Killian's promise: they'd find a way. There was no rush to go back, and she felt guilty for that, but also not, because she was _thrilled_. And very, _very_ aroused.

A vision of a sweaty Killian filled her mind, a memory of how his black shirt clung to his chest, his necklace swinging with his every movement, dark hair matted to his forehead and his eyes as bright as two stars. Under the sun his stubble assumed a ginger hue, which made it even more irresistible. And oh, the way it framed those perfect lips should've been illegal, as much as his rosy cheekbones.

Instinctively, one of her hand slipped underwater, fingers trailing lightly above her stomach, down, down until she brushed her clit, her breath hitching. She'd never actually touched herself so freely, always scared of wolf ears nearby. All she knew came from what Ruby had told her and actually heard and saw others do. She wasn't a voyeur, not at all, but… heat hit the wolves really hard, and sometimes living with them was like living in a brothel. Not that she ever had, but it was a good comparison.

Emma hissed, a jolt of pure pleasure breaking through her body as she moved her bundle of nerves in circle, imagining Killian's callous fingers on her soft skin as her other hand cupped one of her breasts. Biting her lips, she stifled a moan, afraid someone could hear her and _that_ would be a catastrophe.

Feeling bold, she slipped her hand down towards her lower lips, her knees trembling. She was about to part her folds when a gust of cold wind filled the cabin. Emma bolted upright, turning towards the window. _Of course it's fucking closed_ , she cursed. If she'd known more about what effects pleasure had on her magic, she would've thought it'd been her and cold wind wouldn't be something she wanted to conjure.

It hadn't been her, though, that much was clear once a figure appeared in front of her wide eyes. It wasn't exactly human, not in the flesh and bone way, but it _was_ a human being. A woman. _A ghost_ , Emma's mind supplied and her jaw was probably on the wet floor.

The woman seemed to have silver hair, but it probably was her… _condition_ that made it appear so, big, sad eyes regarded Emma. She was wearing a light off-the-shoulders dress, her breasts and upper arms wrapped in what looked like vines and flowers but clearly part of her gown. A long sash around her hips was kept in place by a jewelled brooch as the silky skirt darkened the lower Emma looked, much like the sleeves, which left the ghost's arms bare from the elbows. On top of that, she wore a light cloak, the hood covered her hair and it all tied around her neck but still leaving her shoulders bare. Emma wondered if she was barefoot.

«W-who are you?» she croaked, eyes wide in panic. The woman tilted her head to the side. «Are you a ghost? Or am I dreaming? Maybe I was too exhausted and fell asleep in the tub and this is just a dream. It has to be.»

«Visions are seldom all they seem,» the woman spoke, interrupting her rambling. Emma stared at her, shocked. «You and I will meet again, Savior. But I must beg you: be fast. I don't know how long I will be able to resist her.»

Her mouth still agape, Emma couldn't say another word before the woman disappeared out of thin air, as if she'd never been there. The frigid water was the only thing that proved Emma she hadn't been dreaming: a woman had been in her cabin, the _ghost_ of a woman – her spirit? Was there really a difference? – and she'd told her they would meet again, adding she was trying to resist someone. This didn't make any sense.

Sitting back into the now cold water, Emma heard once again the woman's voice. _You and I will meet again, Savior_. Why did she call her that? How did she find her? What did she want from her? Too many questions and no answer.

Another question arose inside her: should she tell Killian? Would he believe her? No, of course he would, there was no doubt about that. And she could trust him, her gut told her she could even if it scared her to death.

With a deep breath, she stood and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a soft robe around her, hoping it could banish the coldness the ghost had left behind along with the dreadful feeling of an incoming storm.

 **Hello, it's me! Notes at the end this time because I didn't want to spoil anything. First of all, thank you for the comments, favourites, kudos, follows and all that, I'm so happy to share my stories with you and the fact that you like them makes me utterly glad.**

 **Second, there's a bit of naughtiness in this chapter, nothing extreme, but this is just the beginning. I don't think there will be sex in every chapter - maybe in the distant future - but for now there's mostly unresolved sexual tension and... a bit of satisfaction.**

 **Third, and here I hope you won't be mad, I had Emma being not that good with the sword. In the previous chapter I said she was, but because** ** _she_** **thought so, because she'd survived all those years on the run, but she lacked technique. I did this because I wasn't sure of how much she could've learned in such a short time at the palace, so I went for the "canon" way: when she fights Killian at Lake Nostos, Emma pretty much doesn't know how to wield a sword, and there's no way she could beat a 300 years old pirate who'd been in the Royal Navy, unless he'd let her win. This way I don't want to diminish Emma's abilities, not at all, all I wanted to do was show how naive she's been thinking she could actually best Killian or someone fighting for real.**

 **Fourth, we now enter the first adventure, and I gave away who the woman was ;) I also put a not so subtle "nod" to a character I love and, well, I don't think we'll see her, not for a very loooong time.**

 **Thank you so much again - and for those who read Made Of Stars, I hope I'll be able to update soon, I really do.**

 **Until next time!**


	5. visions are seldom all they seem

Emma was quick to get accustomed to walking on dry land again, wobbling just a little but managing not to fall face first in front of everyone.

They were near her Aunt Ella's kingdom but she'd never been in this part of the Enchanted Forest before, not even when she was little.

Feeling a little bit dizzy, she nonchalantly leaned against the wall of the tavern as she watched the men pass her by as she waited for the Captain.

At the thought of him, a memory came upon her, the one that'd kept her awake at night, hot her bothered in her bunk. A blush crept up her face, and her heart sped up its heartbeat.

The moment she'd felt the cold leave her, Emma'd run to Killian's cabin, not even bothering putting anything under the robe. She'd banged on his door, not before hearing strangled moans. Her still shocked mind, though, had not thought about what she was interrupting – not that she had any indication of _what_ he was doing – so she'd been more than stunned when he wrenched the door open simply clad in – almost completely unlaced – leather pants.

Emma remembered staring at him with her mouth open, water still clinging to his hair and _chest_ hair, his necklace resting on his heaving chest. Possibly, the wet look brought out the blue in his eyes even more. Or maybe it'd been the strong blush on his cheeks. She'd looked down, her roaming eyes, noticing how muscular he actually was, and how his chest hair trailed down past his stomach an down, down… Another thing Emma remembered was licking her lips, her mouth suddenly dry at the sight of the visible bulge in his pants. He too had been barefoot, and though she didn't know if feet were an erotic sight for others, Killian's were.

« _Swan_ ,» he'd said breathless, gulping. His eyes had roamed her body, too, and suddenly Emma had felt conscious of her hard nipples straining against the thin fabric of the robe and the fact that under it she was wearing nothing.

Ignoring the sudden ache between her legs, she'd rushed to apologize, saying she would talk to him later and running to her cabin before he could even open his mouth to reply.

That night had been the first one in which she'd touched herself thinking about Killian Jones. And _gods_ , had it been satisfying. Of course, Emma had to be quiet, lest someone heard her, she absolutely didn't want _that_. And obviously she didn't want _him_ to hear. Fantasizing about him was one thing, sleeping with him would change everything. The presence of a contraceptive potion in the chest Regina had given her didn't help, as it didn't the knowledge that he, too, had been pleasuring himself, probably – _hopefully?_ – thinking about her.

Later that day, this time completely dressed up, Emma and Killian had talked about her visitor. Being a sea man, Killian was a little superstitious, and it'd been a miracle if she'd managed to stop him from searching for a bloody priest or witch for an exorcism. Emma had explained him how she thought the ghost wasn't exactly a ghost, but someone's spirit or soul. They'd decided to do nothing about it, both at loss when she'd asked him if he'd ever heard anything about a Savior.

And here she was, after nine days of slight avoidance, waiting for him. Emma knew she could go explore the town by herself, but she didn't want to, she didn't want to be alone.

Killian was the last one to disembark, some of the men staying on the ship to guard her. Emma snorted at the thought that she, too, had started to think about the Jolly as a "she".

«I need to meet with the buyer, you're free to do whatever you want. Unless you want to join me, of course.»

«I'm curious about what you deal with,» she simply replied with a smirk, falling into step with him as they left the docks behind and went towards the center of the little town. Lifting her gaze, Emma noticed for the first time how dark it was up north, as if there was a storm. Right under the sea of dark cloud and beyond the forest, Emma noticed the silhouette of a castle. «What is that?» she couldn't help but wonder aloud.

Killian followed her gaze, frowning. «I wouldn't know. There are not rulers in this part of the kingdom, they rely on Cinderella and Tomas', though they're pretty much independent.»

«Probably no one claimed the throne when the last ruler died,» Emma supposed, her fingers brushing the leather sleeve of his coat. She clenched her hand into a fist to keep herself from doing something so silly like taking his hand in hers.

«It might be so, but it must've happened ages ago, enough to let them settle without a ruler.»

«Please don't say before or after the I-don't-know-what-number-it-was ogre war,» she pleaded. History had never fascinated her, she'd rather listen to his father's tales. Maybe, with time, she might have enjoyed them, but she was robbed of the chance.

«Eh, I think it was between the second and the third one?» There was teasing in his voice, and Emma groaned, throwing her head backwards. «I actually don't know, I've studied the Ogre Wars but it was never mentioned a rulerless kingdom.»

Emma stopped dead in her tracks. «Wait, you've actually studied the Ogre Wars?» She was shocked to say the least.

He shrugged. «You'd be surprised what they teach you in the Royal Navy.»

Her mouth agape, Emma wasn't able to tear her eyes off of him. «So you really were in the Navy,» she whispered, shocked it was actually true. She should've known better.

His cheeks and ears coloured, his usually paler skin now red. «Aye, well, there's so much you don't know,» he defended himself, and she could almost see literal walls rise around him.

«You are right, I'm sorry.»

Killian shook his head. «No, you don't have to apologize.»

«Still, it was rude of me to assume you weren't educated when you clearly are. And mannered, too. I'm just… I'm sorry.»

He gave a bashful but grateful smile. «Apologize accepted, then, Swan.»

It should be illegal the way the last name he'd given her made her shiver, or the way it made her heart race. Emma smiled, looking up at him from under her lashes. «Good.»

«Shall we?»

Nodding, Emma followed him into town, the villagers looking at them in a strange way. It didn't escape her the way young women looked at Killian, just as it didn't escape her the way _she_ felt. She didn't want to go there, forbidden territory, _extremely_ forbidden.

The men, instead, threw Killian distrustful looks, though she didn't miss the lascivious ones they threw her. She'd been prey of that kind of gazes, but it was the first time she was away from home. Magic hummed under her skin, ready to defend herself if someone came too close.

«Don't you worry, love,» Killian whispered in her ear, suddenly too close. Yet, her magic just responded to his proximity by _purring_ like a cat. _Gods_.

«I'm not worried,» she stubbornly replied. It was true, she _wasn't_ worried, not about men and their intentions, she could handle them, she just was on edge. «I just don't like those looks. You get those who willingly want to get in your bed while I get the ones who wouldn't care if I was willing or not.»

Emma felt him stiffen next to her. «Has it ever happened?» Killian's voice was low, tinged with darkness, as if he wanted to kill every person who'd hurt her. It was kind of flattering, and her heart soared.

She shook her head. «No, never. I know how to defend myself,» Emma added, squaring her shoulders. She didn't need protection, but his concern warmed her up.

Killian nodded, a curt gesture. Her answer didn't make him unclench his jaw; on his face there still was a hint of rage. «Good.»

Emma sighed, not knowing how to put his mind at ease. She couldn't, that was clear; even if she kept reassuring him, it wouldn't help, his anger was aimed towards men he'd met, men whom he knew had done despicable things, things he'd never do to a woman. Or a child.

She was about to say something, trying to change the topic, when he lifted his arm and pointed towards a small shop. «We're here.»

The insignia read " _Enchanted Deals_ ", which made her raise a brow. «So you deal in magic artefacts?»

«I merely find them if asked. The owner, Nifty, does.»

Emma couldn't help but ask him: «What did he ask you to find?»

He smirked at her. «Curious little thing, aren't you?» With that, he pushed the door of the shop open and stepped inside.

The place was… singular. It had antiquities of every sort, not only jewels. Old silks, furniture, even, and artefacts from every realm, including some rare incenses that filled the room with a fresh scent, like mint. Most of the objects were protected by thick glass cases. What caught her attention, though, was the amount of magic in there, and how many different kinds of magic were there. It almost caused her a headache.

«Ah, Captain Jones, what a nice surprise. And you're right on time, too.» A voice called from behind the counter, a gruffy one that she almost recognized as Grumpy's. Of course, that couldn't be, the seven dwarves were still in Misthaven, but she also knew there were more of them.

«Oh, Nifty, I wouldn't have the reputation I do if I couldn't keep my word.»

From behind the curtain that separated the shop from what probably was a back room, emerged a short man, definitely a dwarf. He was almost completely bald, with intelligent sharp eyes behind small round glasses that reminded her of Doc's.

«And you bought a friend,» he added, looking at Emma from over his glasses. «Oh.»

 _Oh, fuck_ , Emma thought, knowing he'd recognized her. Her guts told her he wasn't a threat, that he was a friend of sorts, yet she couldn't help but put up a defensive stance.

Killian felt her stiffen next to him, hand casually on the hilt of his cutlass. «Is there a problem?» His voice was low, clearly telling Nifty there was only one right answer.

«None at all, Captain,» the dwarf said, his eyes still trained on Emma. «I thought I'd see you here sooner, _Emma_.»

«How…» she began, not knowing what she wanted to ask, too many questions whirling in her mind.

«My brothers reached out to all of us the moment the barrier was raised, telling us to take you in if in need of a refuge. Which, clearly, you're not.» Emma didn't like the suggestive glint in his eyes at all. «This said, I'm glad you're fine. Last time I saw you, well, it was the day of your name reveal.»

«Then how did you recognize me?»

He placed a parchment on the counter. When Emma stepped closer to see what it was, she saw a wanted poster, her face drawn on it.

«This is from a few years ago, it came from Misthaven.»

«It must have been when I tried to use my magic to break into the barrier. Foolish of me, of course, but I thought I could do it.»

«The witch must've been afraid of your magic, Swan,» Killian said, his proximity calming her, «give the poor a reward like that and they'd bring down their own rulers.»

Part of Emma knew that Misthaven's citizens were too loyal to her parents to bring her to Cora, but she also knew that people did unspeakable things for money, especially when they needed it. «Good thing I'll go back to Misthaven when I'll be able to actually defeat Cora.»

«Now, as much as I'd appreciate staying here and make small talks, I'd rather get down to business,» Nifty said, bringing his eyes back on Killian, who had placed his satchel on the counter. He pulled out a brass bound ivory box, the lid recalling a war scene. Killian pushed it towards Nifty, who inspected the box with careful eyes. He opened it, revealing a dart that oozed with magic, _powerful_ magic. Emma was almost tempted to touch it, the sharp golden tip shining dangerously under the dim light. «Vasavi Shakti, the dart of Indra. It never misses its target.»

Emma widened her eyes. She knew magical weapons existed, knew about flaming swords and whips that turned into deadly snakes, and yes, even about arrows that never missed their targets, or bows, directly, but she'd never seen one.

«Exactly what you asked me. Jasmine was not very fond of it, she just hopes it won't into the wrong hands,» Killian told the dwarf, a warning in his voice.

Nifty huffed, shaking his head. «Don't you worry, Captain, it won't. There's a safe enchanted with blood magic and no one but me can open it.»

«And the buyer?» Emma couldn't help but ask, raising an eyebrow. There had to be a buyer, though she knew many wanted enchanted artefacts just for the pleasure of owning them.

Nifty shook his head. «There's no buyer, Emma, just a weapon in case evil came back to this land. Last time it happened was over two hundred years ago, but you never know. Dragons are a nasty business, trust me.»

Emma chocked on her own breath. « _Dragons_?» she screeched, eyes wide but not in fear, in _excitement_. Oh, she was _bad_.

Killian chuckled, sensing her excitement. Of course she was, she had never seen anything the world had to offer and that included even its dangers. «Can't say I ever met one. Aren't they extinguished?»

«Well, not completely. As far as I know, the one that cursed this kingdom is dead, but there could still be other dragons. I think she even had a child, once, or whatever they call baby dragons. Did you know they lay eggs?»

«How would you know?» Emma asked, extremely hungry of knowledge. She wanted to know _everything_.

Nifty smirked at her. «I'm much older than I seem, dear, though I wasn't here when she cast her curse.»

«What happened?» Killian asked, intrigued. Emma cast him a conspiratorial glance, the corners of her lips lifting up in a smile.

Nifty took his time, going to the back of the shop, the ivory box in his hands. He came back a minute later, a leather pouch in his hand. «As promised, Captain, your payment.» After Killian had taken the pouch and put it in his satchel, the dwarf pulled off his glasses and cleaned them with a cloth. «This is just what the villagers told me, and I've come here fifty or so years ago. As I bet you've seen, the old castle looks like it's under a black cloud. That's the curse the dragon I told you about, Maleficent was her name, also called the Mistress of all Evil, cast. Apparently, she'd been rejected by the King, Stephan, and she concocted a plan: on the eve of her wedding, she cursed the Princess, putting her under a sleeping curse. Knowing her True Love was the Prince she was going to marry, Maleficent turned him into a terrifying beast who hunted these lands until someone found a way to turn him back into a human being.»

«Then why didn't he break the curse?» Emma couldn't stop herself from asking, hungry for more. She loved a good story, and it'd been years since she'd heard one like that, full of mysteries and magic.

Nifty smiled at her excitement, but his expression darkened a moment later. «He tried to, but the dragon was smart, and cruel. As you must know, a sleeping curse can be broken with True Love's kiss. I don't know the specifics, I think nobody knows, but apparently the Prince couldn't break the curse and nobody ever saw him again. Some say he died, others that he ran away, ashamed of not being the Princess' True Love… since then, the kingdom began to rot, but the people were smart, and with help from the nearby rulers, they kept going on, evolving into this cosy little town.»

Well, _that_ she was not expecting. It was a little bit disappointing and she felt the urge to explore; there had to be more to the story. Perhaps a trip to the castle held the answers to her numerous questions.

«That one,» Nifty added, pointing at a huge painting she hadn't noticed before, «is the Princess Aurora. She was very beautiful, even more than her own mother.»

But Emma wasn't listening to him anymore, she was looking at the painting, shocked. «T-t-that is the girl I saw!» she stammered, looking at Killian, almost with horror in her eyes.

His eyes widened, too. «How is it possible?» But none of them had the right answer, none of them knew magic enough to have one.

Emma opened and closed her mouth three times before shaking her head. «The only one who could give me an answer would be Regina, but I can't contact her, I can't trust the mirrors, who knows what Cora could send against us. Fuck, she could even find a dragon and send it here.»

It was then that Emma locked eyes with Killian, the same idea forming in their thoughts. Against their better judgements, they knew it was dangerous, but piracy was probably more so, and Emma craved adventures.

«What do you say, Swan? Are you up for a stroll in the forest?» Killian asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Smiling widely, Emma nodded her head. «I guess a trip to a cursed castle is in order. Besides, I think the spirit… the Princess, whatever, I think she wants me there.»

Well, the ghost _did_ say they'd meet again. And she'd called her Savior. Tilting her head, Emma brought her attention back on Nifty. «The Princess called me "Savior", do you know why?»

That caught the dwarf's attention. His furry eyebrows shot up. «This actually makes sense,» he muttered, almost to herself. «It all goes back to an old prophecy that never came true. Apparently, your step-grandmother was supposed to cast a Dark Curse, but it never happened. It was said that the product of True Love would bring back the happy endings. That was the Savior. And that, my dear, was you.»

Emma widened her eyes in shock. She was destined to bring back the happy endings? And she was destined to do so in some kind of… alternate timeline? A timeline that never was and never will be, something she couldn't change – not that she would even if she could. Of course, she would change many things, but if, to fulfil the prophecy, her past had to be worse, she would never do that. Suddenly, the air around her wasn't enough, her knees starting to tremble, her chest to tighten.

«I-I need air,» she panted, running as fast as she could out of the shop, nearly tripping over someone. She braced her hands on her knees, breathing in deeply one, two, three times before air actually filled her lungs and allowed her not to feel dizzy anymore.

A warm hand stroked between her shoulder blades, Killian's scent invading her nostrils and calming her a bit. She felt ridiculous, she was about to have a panic attack based on the fact that her past, the past of her whole family, was destined to be different yet she was living _this_ life. Gods, it was all so confusing. What was real? What wasn't? _Was_ it real?

«Whatever you're thinking, stop, Swan.»

She couldn't help the snort that escape her. «Easy for you to say, you didn't just find out the life you're living is not the one you're supposed to live,» Emma snapped, looking at him, and there was concern and caution in his sad eyes.

Being the gentleman he always was, Killian let her lash out on him. Then, calmly, he said: «Who tells you I'm not? Just like you, just like everyone else around here, who says I'm not living a life that wasn't meant to be mine? For what we know, we could've born centuries apart and never met, or our meeting could've happened under different circumstances.»

He was right, of course he was right. Emma sighed, resting her head against his leather-clad shoulder. «This is all so fucked up, you know? What should we do now?»

«What would you like to do, Swan?»

A smile bloomed on her lips, a warm feeling spreading through her at how he always put her desires first. It made her heart soar, beating fast in her chest like never before. However, she sighed, shaking her head. «I don't know, I don't want to think about… _that_.»

Killian pulled away, a playful smirk on his face, one she mirrored instinctively. «What do you say, Swan, do you fancy a stroll in the woods?»

* * *

«Well,» Emma panted, her breath short and her muscles screaming in pain at her along with her lungs, «I thought this was a _forest_.»

Indeed, it _was_ a forest, with trees all around and probably even some creatures lurking in the shadows which she didn't want to meet. But it didn't explain how the trees suddenly made way to a huge amount of briars the couldn't even find a way around to.

She turned to face Killian, and _fuck_ , it wasn't fair: he didn't even seem breathless, maybe just a bit, and his eyes shone brighter as a bit of sweat graced his forehead, his hair slightly damp. And he was still wearing that heavy leather coat.

Unable to catch her breath, she sat on the ground, not caring about the dead leaves around her. Her skin felt sticky, and she was definitely in need of another bath. And a nap. A very long nap.

«Quite impressive, I never thought briars could be this extended.»

«Because they aren't,» Emma said, rolling her eyes. «I can feel its magic oozing out of it. It's powerful, dark.» She looked up at him and saw his figure leaned against a tree trunk. Her mouth dried at the sight, his toned leather-legs were fully exposed now that the coat fell behind his hip, letting her have an eyeful of the front of his body. _Focus, Emma_.

One of his eyebrows quirked up; of course he'd catch her staring. «You don't have a way to get rid of this?»

 _Of your clothes?_ , she was about to ask, biting down on her tongue to prevent herself from actually doing it. Her face red, Emma forced herself to bring her eyes on the briars. «No, we're barely halfway to the castle, any spell could trigger its expansion or burn down the whole forest. Besides, I don't want to cross it, not even cutting my way through it: one nick, and it could put us under a sleeping curse, or worse.»

Killian's face darkened at her words, and Emma couldn't explain the stiffness in his whole body and the rage burning in his eyes.

Licking her lips, Emma looked down at her feet. There didn't seem to be a way around the briars, and neither a way through, but Emma still had her magic, and though she wasn't an expert in teleportation – or poofing, as she usually called it – she could try it.

«May I have your spyglass, please?» she asked standing up, her knees protesting but sustaining her. Killian looked at her with an eyebrow raised, trying to understand what she wanted to do, but gave her the spyglass anyway.

Securing it inside her belt, a strange and uncomfortable weight, she looked around in search of the lowest branch. Once she found it, she jumped and grabbed it, starting to climb the tree under Killian's amused and impressed gaze. She felt smug, and if she put a bit of a swagger in her climb, sticking out her arse a bit more of what it needed to be, well, she didn't regret it.

Once on top of the tree, holding tightly at the trunk since she didn't trust the thin branches, Emma pulled the spyglass from the belt and tried to calculate the distance the briars put between them and the castle. Ugh, she should've probably suggested Killian do it, he knew his distances better than her for sure. She hoped she wouldn't poof them right in the middle of the briars.

The descent was easier than the climb, but at least she didn't stumble when her feet hit the ground nor a branch broke and she fell right into Killian arms. Emma didn't know if she was disappointed.

Handing him back the spyglass, she noticed his cheeks were definitely redder than before she climbed the tree. «I think I can poof us there. Hopefully.»

«Poof?» Killian asked, his confused expression extremely cute, it made Emma feel butterflies in her stomach.

«Teleport… you know, the whole cloud of smoke thing…»

«Poofing.»

«Yeah,» Emma blushed, «I wasn't even ten, alright?»

He chuckled at her embarrassment, raising his hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. «Alright, Swan, I trust you.»

Emma's eyes widened at his words. She wanted to kiss him. She was almost completely sure he wanted to kiss her too. With a small, grateful smile, she took the hand that was hovering near her cheek in her own and closed her eyes, focusing on her magic. It was already pulsating beneath her skin, Killian's proximity making it go crazy in a way she didn't expect it to: she felt more powerful, surer about herself than she'd ever been, as if could do anything with just a snap of her fingers or a flick of her wrist.

She felt him squeeze her hand back the moment a gust of wind blew around them, ruffling their hair. A cloud of smoke enveloped them and Emma felt like she was dissolving but was sure all her bones and organs were in the right place.

The wind ceased, and they found themselves in a much darker place; it looked like it was night in the middle of the day.

Emma opened one eye first, then the other one, meeting Killian's. He was smiling proudly and the need to kiss him came back in a rush.

«You did it, Swan. You're bloody brilliant, amazing.»

And now her legs almost buckled under her, his gaze too much for her, too intense and telling it scared and thrilled her at the same time. No one had ever looked at her like that, with devotion and awe. She was about to throw caution at the wind and just kiss the holy hell out of him when the air became icy around them, cold seeping through their clothes and bones, a sensation Emma had already experienced.

She turned around, her back flush against Killian's chest, hand on the hilt of the sword though she knew it'd be useless.

The ghost, or spirit, or Princess Aurora, however she was called, looked at them, her eyes void. Emma couldn't understand if it was just because she was a spirit.

«Bloody hell,» she heard Killian mutter in her ear, clearly dumbfounded. He wasn't the only one; even if she'd already experienced it, the spirit's appearance was still a bit too much for Emma, and she had magic.

Just like it appeared, the spirit dissolved into thin air, leaving behind a faint scent of roses. Emma frowned, supposing the Princess didn't have enough strength to project herself outside her body for too long.

Around them, the castle was in ruin, more briars reached out to it, mirroring the curse that still held onto the land, grasping at the stones and coloured glass shreds, curtains torn and full of holes waved in the wind. It was a sad image, Emma's heart hurt at the thought that her castle could have the same fate one day.

Emma looked up at the turrets, probably where the Princess was sleeping. She didn't want to risk poofing them inside, who knew which dangers lurked in the shadows. Squeezing Killian hand, she made her way to the what looked like a garden just behind the corner, the decorative arch now crumbled to the ground, much like everything else, much like the lives of the curse took many years ago.

There was a swing, one Emma would've enjoyed so much to read outside under the sun, weeds all around killing the beautiful flowers that once grew there, making the place a terrestrial paradise, now only briars tightened around the columns, squeezing the life out of the stones.

She couldn't help but wonder if her mother kept tending to her flowers just like she used to do once upon a time, or if the garden Emma hid in to read a book when she should've been learning whatever her tutor wanted to teach her had died, becoming a ghost of what it was.

Stepping behind the colonnade, they found themselves into another part of the garden, this one smaller, a statue standing out right in the middle of it. It portrayed the Princess – of course it did – with roses in her hair – _how ironic_ – and a sceptre in her hand. Emma tilted her head, wondering what it meant. Of course, she never had a statue of her, a portrait – alright, maybe two… or three – but never an actual statue. But that wasn't it, it was the sceptre that didn't make sense: it wasn't a common accessory, not if the Princess hadn't been crowned yet.

«What are you thinking, love?»

How could he always know what was going on in her mind? «Just how unusual it is for her to hold a sceptre,» she murmured, stepping closer to kneel down and see what was hidden beneath the briars that circled the base of the statue. It looked like a poem – another strange thing to add to the list.

« _Sleeping Beauty fair, gold of sunshine in your hair, lips that shame the red, red rose, dreaming of true love in slumber repose. One day he will come, riding over the dawn, when you awaken to love's first kiss. Till then, Sleeping Beauty, sleep on, one day you'll awaken to love's first kiss. Till then, Sleeping Beauty, sleep on_.»

«Someone must have carved it after the curse,» Killian observed, confused.

«With magic,» Emma murmured, tracing the "s" with her leather-clad fingers. «I think… I think the fairies did this.»

Killian arched an eyebrow. «Fairies? And they left the castle like this? They left the Princess asleep here?»

Emma could understand his scepticism, but she also knew fairies and how devious they could be. «Well, I don't know a way to wake up someone from a sleeping curse that isn't a true love kiss, and neither do the fairies, but something tells me I can do something. Is it insane?»

He was smiling, an amused glint in his eyes as he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his touch calming and exciting at the same time. «Oh, darling, all the best people are mad.»

 **Thank you for reading and reviewing and everything, I'm so grateful for all your words and kudos! I stole the "poem" from Disney's animated movie's song, I thought it was fitting. And so we've begun our first quest to bring back the happy endings, I hope you'll enjoy the ride!**


	6. will my song go winging to someone, who'

**Quick note to say I'm thankful for every comment, follow and kudos, you are the best! Hit me up on my tumblr at darkcolinodonorgasm if you want ;)**

 **Chapter 6 – will my song go winging to someone, who'll find me and bring back a love song to me**

«Stephan and Briar Rose,» Emma snorted, shaking her head. _Seriously_?

«Stephan _is_ a good name, it means "crown".»

«Alright, but _Briar Rose_? Really?»

Killian shrugged, a smile threatening to overcome him and make him lose his façade. «And _Maleficent_ , then?»

Emma scowled at him. «Maleficent _is_ a cool name. And the fact that she could turn into a dragon? Awesome. Briar Rose is so… insignificant.»

«You know,» he began as they left the cemetery where they'd found the graves of the dead rulers, «I think Maleficent made the same reasoning you're having right now: Briar Rose became Queen, but Maleficent probably thought she was better than her, and held such a grudge she cursed her daughter to punish Stephan.»

At his words, Emma stopped, turning around. «Now you're just making me feel like a bad person,» she pouted, unable of not crossing her arms at her chest.

«If it consoles you, you're much more beautiful than Sleeping Beauty up there.» Killian winked at her, his hand motioning to the turrets.

Emma arched an eyebrow. «Are you saying you'd marry me instead of some dragon?» The words were out of the mouth before she could even think them. Suffice to say, her complexion became almost purple.

«Why, Swan, are you proposing?»

She didn't think she could blush even more, yet she felt like Granny could cook sausages on her cheeks. «W-what? No! Of course I'm not!» she stuttered, not daring looking at him.

«Hush, Swan, I'm jesting,» Killian reassured her, a note of amusement in his voice as he resumed walking, only to stop in front of the entrance, the wooden portal completely rotten it had become pitch-black and was in ruins.

Opting for the silent treatment, Emma huffed under her breath and stepped inside. Her magic was agitated and so was she. Yes, going on adventures was wonderful, but what could she do against a dragon?

«I wonder where we can find answers,» Emma muttered to herself, seeing torn portraits hanging lopsided on the walls, shards of coloured glass on the floor along with skeletons slowly turning into dust. Emma gulped, her thoughts going straight to her people in Misthaven. Princess Aurora's subjects had fallen under another kind of sleeping curse, one that didn't preserve the body but let it rot until the person died because it couldn't eat or drink. Emma knew what happened when a person was put under a sleeping curse, her mother had told her about the room she was trapped in, and she couldn't help but wonder if this other curse worked the same way, the victim knowing the end was near, helpless and hopeless.

She heard loud noises nearby; whipping around, she noticed Killian was nowhere to be seen. Immediately fearing something had hurt him, her heart started beating wildly in her chest.

«Don't you worry, love, I'm in here,» the pirate called from an adjacent room. Emma bristled, not liking how fear had gripped her insides and twisted to point of pain. She didn't like the feeling, she didn't like how vulnerable she felt, even just for a moment.

Following his voice, she entered a huge room, what once was probably the throne room where more skeletons were scattered all around, the remainings of the two sovereigns partially on the thrones' cushions and partially on the floor at their feet.

When she got sight of Killian, Emma's jaw almost hit the floor. _Unbelievable_. «You- you're… you're _stealing_ from them?»

He straightened up immediately, swiftly hiding what he'd just pilfered inside his satchel. For a moment, looking into his eyes, Emma was afraid. Not just of what his reaction to that accusation would be, but also of hurting him. Sure, it was mostly an observation than an actual accusation, but she also knew he was a pirate, and she'd not been much better, sometimes stealing herself, too.

From where she stood, Emma could see a muscle tick in his jaw. «Aye, Swan, that I am. They've got no use of all their splendours anymore. The villagers, on the other hand, do. Not that I will them everything, us _pirates_ divide our loots in even parts save for what I decide is worth selling, _then_ I split the earnings. If there's nothing to gain, nothing that can allow my men to enjoy their lives while on land, I lose worthy men, which cannot happen. I apologise if I do not care much about long dead royalties who had treasuries filled to the brim and most likely overflowing.»

It felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of icy water at her. She knew he was right, that was how the story went: royals and pirates both hoarded gold and treasures, yet pirates spent their gold, somehow giving it back to the commoners, royals let it rest in a room they visited probably to just count it and bask in their riches, sometimes riches they'd obtained thanks to unbearable taxes. Her parents and many other sovereigns she knew weren't like that, but she couldn't speak for every ruler.

Somehow, pirates did more good to people than their own rulers did. It was a concept that took time to wrap one's head around it, an unusual and immediately rejected one if this person was of royal lineage like Emma.

Gulping, she bowed her head and nodded. Yes, it might have been a horrible gesture, but Killian was right: the dead didn't need what could refill a town's coffers.

Putting her disgust aside, Emma ventured among the skeletons. She felt like a vulture, divesting people's phalanxes of rings and picking up earrings from under them.

«Leave the necklaces where they are, I'll deal with those.»

Emma was grateful she had her back to him, she didn't want to see the torment on her face, how the thought of having to separate a skull from the rest of the skeleton with her hands was enough to make her feel sick. She nodded her head, moving away from the sea of bones and focusing on other treasures, things that wouldn't be missed if the curse was lifted. Unless the sleeping Princess decided to retain her title and rule over her subjects, which Emma honestly doubted, nobody would soon inhabit the castle, leaving it in ruins, especially because the villagers had managed to renovate themselves and their economy on their own. It was admirable, really, and Emma couldn't imagine how they would react if forced to bend the knee: all those who lived now saw monarchy as a distant past, something they hoped wouldn't return.

She summoned trunks to fill with the treasures they'd find. Emma put the jewellery she'd found inside a small velvet sack, not feeling the need to keep one or two for herself, not just because she wasn't comfortable with it, but also because she didn't feel the need to have rings or earrings or bracelets, no matter how wonderful they were.

It was strange thinking that, had she lived like a princess, she would wear jewels like that on a daily basis. She vividly remembered her mother showing her a tiara that would one day be hers, a so distant memory she almost wondered whether it was real.

«Apologies, love, but…» Killian sighed just a few steps behind her, startling her. «Can you do something for them? I might despise royalty, but they didn't ask to be killed off like this.»

Emma hadn't yet discovered what had happened to him to make him so spiteful against royalty, but agreed with him: it didn't matter what would become of the castle, these were once people and didn't deserve to have their bones spread all over.

Nodding her head, she turned around, lifting both her hands. A light breeze swept through the open doors and glassless windows, the skeletons turning into dust under the wind's touch just like the guards' corpses had done in the alley that fateful night.

Unfortunately, the castle didn't seem less haunted.

A warm hand gently squeezed her shoulder, making her turn away from the now empty floor. She lifted her gaze, meeting Killian's concerned blue eyes, his lips set into a thin line. He forced himself to lift a corner of his mouth. «Let's leave the chest here, love, we have a princess to wake up.»

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Emma nodded, relaxing into his touch for just a moment. Trying not to break into a run, Emma strode out of the room, sighing in relief when she set foot in the hallway. The castle's layout was strange, different from hers, but one thing she knew for sure: the princess would be in the highest tower.

Reaching the main staircase, Emma wondered how it once looked like, not in ruin and heavily decorated, candles lighting up the chandelier now in pieces on the floor, covered in cobwebs. Emma shivered, hoping she wouldn't find spiders wandering around.

Briars enveloped the banisters, some penetrating from beneath the steps as if they were about to completely destroy the castle from inside out. Careful not to touch them, Emma reached the first floor, looking around in search of more stairs.

Following her guts, she went to the left, ignoring what looked like a library on her right and heading straight into another corridor. She looked into every room, finding more bones to transform into dust and more jewels to collect. It made her feel dirty, no matter how right it was.

«Out of curiosity,» Killian's voice startled her, far too close than she would suspect since she thought him still downstairs, «could you do something for the maps and books in the library? There are quite a few I'd very much like to study.»

Emma whirled around, thin eyebrows raised at his unusual request. She didn't realize, though, he was too close, making her breasts bump into his chest. Cheeks flaring, Emma moved a half step backwards, chastising herself for the sudden warmth pooling in her belly and the _desire_ of pressing herself even more against him.

Gulping to fight the dry sensation in her mouth, she nodded slowly, only to suddenly shake it. «I don't know any spell capable of restoring old books, but I can see if I can find one in my grandmother's grimoire.»

Killian took longer than usual to respond, his eyes roaming up and down her figure. More heat flared up inside her, making her skin tingle in a way it did when she used her magic.

«Thank you, love.» Once again, his voice brought her back to reality, the half smile on his full lips making her magic hum just beneath her dermis.

Even though she wasn't still able to breathe correctly given his proximity and the way his scent danced in the air between her, filling her lungs, she managed to find her voice. «I can't promise you I will find one or that it will work, though.»

A smile spread across his face, his eyes sparkling with something she couldn't quite place. It wasn't amusement, he wasn't laughing at her, and there was fondness shining in his blue irises. «I've yet to see you fail, love.»

It was astounding the faith he put in her when he didn't even know her. Her magic hummed again in response, so much she had to clench her fists to impede her palms from glowing.

Emma opened and closed her mouth several times before uttering a "thank you" and turning around, shoulders set as she stiffly walked away from him. Her grandmother and Blue had always told her magic was emotion, that it was tethered to her feelings because it was part of her and not just an inclination: too many strong emotions and she could end up setting the curtains aflame for the slightest motive, too little and she couldn't even light up a candle.

While she'd experienced outbursts that had caused things to fall or flames to burn something out of their usual reach or even windows to shatter, but in neither of those situations she ever felt like this, so full of magic she could burst but powerless to control it. It wasn't just about magic, though, and that was Emma's main problem: just like she wasn't able of fully controlling her magic, she couldn't handle emotions well.

The fact that she'd never found herself in close company of a man like Killian played a huge factor in the whirlwind of emotions she couldn't escape. Somehow, Emma wasn't even sure she _wanted_ to, such a strange and unacceptable thought.

After snooping around for a few more minutes, searching through sitting rooms, a music room and another smaller library in the very back of the castle. Assumingly, right above her head she would find bedchambers, probably those belonging to the royal family and close friends in this wing of the castle and more for guests in the other one.

Much like Misthaven's castle, the corridors formed a labyrinth, but nothing like her grandmother's – or, well, her _mother_ 's – castle, its extremely strange, modern architecture hiding a hell of a maze.

«Mhm,» she hummed, sniffing the air around her. Behind her, she could sense Killian's presence and his eyes on her, probably wondering about her methods but not questioning them or trying to tell her what to do. Not that he could anyway, he possessed no magic, but it was nice not to have someone breathing down her neck. At least not in a good way.

Gasping at her own thoughts, Emma felt heat rise to her cheeks once again. She hoped he'd not noticed, but even if he had, he didn't ask. Honestly, Emma didn't know if she liked his thoughtfulness. While on one hand she felt grateful, it made her almost feel bare, which wasn't a new sensation, not when she'd started feeling like that since their eyes met in the tavern.

It was as if he could see through her, beneath her masks and behind the walls Emma had put up to let herself suffer from the separation without showing it. She didn't know _how_ , but Killian Jones was far too understanding and saw far too much. It filled her with unease, yet it also calmed her.

She shook her head, now was definitely not the time to dwell on her feelings, no matter how scary or pleasant they were. Right now, Emma needed to focus on breaking a sleeping curse. Unless the dragon had used a different kind of curse than the one Regina told her about, it would be an impossible task to succeed.

Once upon a time, Regina, before her change of heart, had poisoned an apple and had Snow eat it. Emma's mother fell into a sleeping curse and only David's kiss woke her up. Somehow – Emma still had questions about how it happened – Regina earned her forgiveness and aimed her hate towards her own mother. She even found her own true love, but earning forgiveness from the villagers took her much longer than it did Snow. Honestly, Emma believed some still held a grudge, and she couldn't say she blamed them. Her father very much agreed with her. However, Emma had grown up with Regina as her grandmother, and she didn't exactly hate her, on the contrary, but she was smart enough to know people could not like her that much. Which was why Regina didn't rule, no one would ever trust her again to do so, no matter if Snow had forgiven her; therefore, she'd decided to just liver her life in her own castle with Robin and his son Roland – the fact that Regina sentenced Marian to death had created quite the argument between the three of them, but ultimately they'd all moved past that, Roland sometime still struggling with the truth.

Emma had wondered how they could forgive her, the thought of her being in their same situation filling her with hatred. She wasn't like Snow, she wasn't as forgiving as her mother was, but believed people deserved a second chance when they showed they wanted to change.

 _What about pirates, Swan?_ , she could almost hear Killian's voice in her head. Startled, she threw a look over her shoulder to see what he was doing. She could only see the hem of his long coat disappearing past the door leading to a sitting room.

She silently sighed to herself. _Pirates_ , she mused, the still unanswered question about _why_ he'd become a pirate gnawing at her. Knowing herself, Emma would probably end up blurting out the question at the worst time.

Once reached the end of the corridor, turning to her right, Emma saw something she really didn't expect to see.

«Bloody hell.»

She should probably purchase a collar with a bell attached to it so she could hear him move. _No, perhaps he's into that_. Emma wouldn't be surprised. _Admit it, you wouldn't even be opposed to test it yourself_.

Startled both by his sudden appearance and her own thoughts, Emma turned a bright shade of red. Clearing her voice, she echoed his sentiment. «Bloody hell indeed.»

Unlike the other parts of the castle, the walls and ceiling in front of them were covered in briars, forming a tunnel around her. What was even more strange about it all, was that these briars weren't green, nor dark brown, but _gold_.

«Have you ever seen something quite like that?» she asked him, turning her head to look at him, surprise spreading across her face at the sight of his lugubrious expression. Never once she'd seen him like that, not even the night they met when he faced Randall. It scared her, all the darkness inside him coming to the surface.

«Unfortunately, I have,» he hissed through gritted teeth, a muscle pulsing in his jaw. Emma felt the sudden urge of touching him and try to reassure him. Of what, Emma had no clue.

Setting her mouth in a thin line and clenching her fists at her side, Emma shifted her gaze back onto the briars. «Unfortunately, that's the only way towards the turret.»

«Even if I questioned where the princess was, there's no doubt these bloody briars lead straight to her.» His voice was low and grim, sending an uncomfortable shiver down her spine. What really scared her, though, wasn't him, or what he could do, because she trusted him not to hurt her, but what lay ahead.

«I wish I could poof us in her bedchamber.»

Killian's eyes shifted towards her, a soft light dancing beneath the ice-cold irises. Her pulse quickened under his gaze, a faint shade of red colouring every patch of skin visible, starting from her chest and climbing up her long and slender neck until her hairline. Emma chastised herself, now was not the moment to blush like a silly young girl. «Don't blame yourself, love, we just need to be careful.»

 _And hope they're not enchanted to attack us_. She didn't need to voice her thoughts, Killian had the same fear filtering through the cracks of his dark expression. Killian Jones was a complicated man, that much she was certain of; however, just like she sometimes couldn't decipher his thoughts or emotions, there were times in which Emma could see right through him and the masks he wore, much like he could always read her like an open book. Sometimes, Killian Jones was as transparent as ice.

He was the first to step forward, ringed hand on the hilt of his cutlass, ready to fight for their lives. Emma knew that even the tiniest nick could mean sleeping curse or death, and so did Killian.

They followed the tunnel of gold briars, shiny sharp thorns seeming to grow closer to them, threatening to rip their clothes. Fortunately, it was just their minds tricking them. Yet, Emma was ready to poof them out of the castle and burn it to the ground if the briars appeared to have minds of their own.

Some briars covered the floor, dead.

«Must be the prince's doing.»

Killian nodded at her speculation; she could see the back of his head move. Her eyes trailed down, admiring the way his hair curled a bit at the nape of his neck, the uneven hairline there putting a smile on her lips. Her fingertips tingled as the desire of running her fingers through the dark locks sparked within her.

They reached the other end of the corridor, doors completely covered by the briars, windows penetrated by them as they poured outside, embracing the castle in a grinding grasp. It was a wonder the palace hadn't collapsed on itself already.

«Ugh, stairs.» Next to her, Killian broke into a chuckle. Emma shot him a glare. «Oh, right, you _climb_ towers, with your own two _hands_ , you didn't have to study astronomy in the highest tower.»

He grimaced slightly. «Actually, I had to endure the same lessons as you, the astronomy tower was difficult to reach, its staircase so narrow barely two people could pass. We never had the fortune of living in an actual castle.»

Emma bit her tongue, almost cutting it to avoid asking him what he meant with "we", sensing he wasn't talking about his comrades. His sentence served to remember her how different their upbringings were, it didn't matter if she'd lived most of her life like fugitive, she was born and raised like a princess.

«Yeah, well, you didn't have to wear a corset or tight shoes,» she mumbled, taking the first step, the staircase wide enough for them to stay side by side, yet it was safer if they both stayed as far as possible from the thorns.

«Can't say that I have, no,» he confirmed behind her, a trace of amusement in his dark voice. _Right, do not forget where you are, Emma_.

The closer they got to the princess, the more darkness Emma could sense, her magic swirling beneath her dermis in a very different way than when her emotions were influenced by Killian's presence, than when she was… _happy_.

There was something wrong in the air, the temperature dropping every step she climbed, as if she was entering an ice cave. Gulping, Emma repressed a shiver and went on, clenching and unclenching her fists in order to keep her magic calm, she didn't need to light up flames all around them.

The briars covered the chamber's circular walls, twisting their way up the columns of the bed and spreading on the ceiling above their heads. The rotten furniture had almost completely crumbled on itself, the briars the only thing that kept the bed up.

Lying on the bed, dressed exactly as she'd appeared in front of them, Aurora slept. She looked peaceful, but Emma knew she'd ben battling flames for years, for so much longer a human being could endure. That was what made the sleeping curse earn its name: it wasn't just a curse for who was left behind, but also for who fell under it, a torture they couldn't escape unless they had the fortune of having someone who truly loved them.

Bones were scattered at the side of the bed, bones Emma knew belonged to the prince. Had he been cursed? Or had his been a different death?

Emma looked around the room, sadness overwhelming her at the sight. There was so much desolation: the wind blowing through the broken windows, the remaining of a wardrobe buried beneath what once were magnificent gowns, now completely shredded, the vanity on the ground, covered by a broken mirror, the perfume bottles shattered all around it.

Stepping forward, Emma's eyes were drawn by the prince's skeleton, his clothes disintegrated and in what once was his hand…

«What the-» Bending, Emma reached out with her hand, moving the cold bones aside to grab what looked like an old book. _Why was he clutching a book of all things_?

Careful not to tear the pages and in fear these would crumble beneath her fingers, she turned it to see its cover. «This is not a book,» she breathed in surprise, sensing Killian's body a few inches from her. «This is a grimoire.»

While there was no mistake when it came to whose skeleton it was, there was no way the grimoire belonged to him, especially not when the grimoire's dark purple cover was decorated with the high-relief of a dragon.

Cautiously, Emma returned to the page she'd kept bookmarked with her finger, actually not surprised that it was the sleeping curse spell: how to create it, the implications and the note in blood-red handwriting saying it needed to be taken willingly. «Oh.»

Under it all, there was written _how_ to break a sleeping curse: true love's kiss, of course, and something _more_.

« _When True Love lives no more, the very essence of True Love spread over the golden curse undoes what evil has cast_ ,» she read aloud, brows furrowing. «This is impossible, it-it can't be! Regina never told me this!»

«Can it be that she didn't know? Your grandmother is not the one who brewed the first sleeping curse, is she?»

Rhetorical question aside, Emma knew Killian had a point: having only learned how to brew the curse, Regina would not know everything the curse would imply, especially how it could be broken. And no one would, unless…

Emma turned towards Killian, staring at him with wide eyes. «This isn't just a grimoire, this is _Maleficent_ 's!»

The man frowned, not doubting her words, rather wondering how the grimoire had fallen into the prince's hands. Of course, the witch the grimoire belonged to could've been defeated or died before he found it, yet it didn't sound quite right. On the other hand, the prince could've stolen it, but Killian doubted he would go far after such a risky theft.

« _The very essence of True Love_ ,» Emma murmured to herself, chewing her lower lip in a very sinful and tempting way.

Killian had just the basic knowledge of magic, and while knew what True Love was, he'd never dreamed of have one, no matter how much his mother had claimed both her children were deserving of the purest form of love existing. _Too bad one had not lived long enough to find it and the other never will_.

«Goodness gracious,» Emma whispered, eyes impossibly wider as she looked back up into his. «When my parents were young, they separately went to Rumplestiltskin asking for a deal. What he asked in return, was one hair from each one of them. When I asked my grandmother what he could do with it, she told me he created the essence of True Love. It makes sense, Killian: aside from my parents, I know very few people who have actual True Love, and even fewer want to have something to do with the Dark One.» She was now biting down her thumb's fingernail, a small, fond smile stretching out her lips. «Love is the most powerful magic of all.»

That was what her mother used to always tell her. « _Love can overcome everything, my love, love is the most powerful magic of all, it transcends time and space and knows no boundaries, no limits_.»

Emma could hear her mother's words as if she was standing right next to her, running gentle fingers through her golden tresses to better lull her to sleep, something she would do whenever her father was away or she was sick, buried under so many blankets she almost felt like suffocating but wouldn't move an inch. Had she known what would happen, Emma would've tried to spend more time with her parents and make more happy memories she would then savour whenever she felt lost and desperate, knowing the love between them was true and would somehow overcome everything.

She gasped, her hand clutching Killian's arm, her fingers buried into the buttery leather of his coat. «I think I'm the very essence of True Love Maleficent wrote about. _The product of True Love_. That's what Blue always referred me as to justify my white magic.»

He nodded at her explanation, following her reasoning. «It would explain why the princess appeared to you and called you Savior,» Killian added, casting a glance to the sleeping woman on the bed. «It appears you are fated to bring back the happy endings no matter if you find yourself growing up in the Land Without Magic or in the Enchanted Forest.»

The reminder that she theoretically shouldn't even be here at the moment made her shoulders sag, the pressure of the whole Savior affair too much for her to bear now. She'd wanted to go on an adventure, not to dwell on "what if"s.

Setting her jaw, she stepped towards the gold briars, grimoire clutched to her chest as she raised her right hand towards the shiny thorns.

What she didn't expect, was Killian barging in front of her, tightly wrapping his fingers around her wrist. «What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?» he boomed, his features suddenly darker than ever before, even than when he'd seen the briars in the forest. For the fracture of a second, Killian scared her. There was wild rage shining in his stormy eyes, but that wasn't the only emotion thundering beneath the surface.

Killian Jones was scared. No, scared wasn't enough, he was _frightened_. Emma couldn't begin to understand why.

«Breaking the spell requires my blood spread over the "golden curse". It must mean the briars.»

He was fuming, irises as dark as the sea during the storm. The grasp on her wrist tightened, and Emma felt her hand grow numb. «What if it's a trick? What if the briars put you under the same sleeping curse? You would require your parent's kiss to wake you up, Emma, and do I need to remind you neither of you can even _see_ each other?»

His cruel words slashed at her heart and tears pooled in her eyes, threatening to spill in front of the truth.

«I won't lose-» Killian's throat tightened, his voice failing at expressing his feelings. He glanced away for a brief moment, allowing himself to collect his feelings before looking back at her. «I _can't_ allow you to do this, Emma.»

Hurt, Emma felt fury spiralling in her stomach. « _You_ can't _allow_ me to break a curse when I'm the only one who can break the curse?»

Killian clenched his jaw. «If you want your blood to be spilled, then it'll be spilled in the old fashioned way.» Surprising her and making her widen her eyes, Killian unsheathed the dagger from its scabbard at her waist, holding it up between them.

But before he could lower the dagger and slash her skin, the room was enveloped in a winter chill. A loud, deafening laugh filled the air, making Emma turn around, Killian stepping forward to shield her with his own body.

The laughter faded, followed by a heavy sigh. «I should've known there was an acute brain behind that pretty face, Captain. Your intervention is really unfortunate, my dear, if only you'd let the pretty princess here sting her finger, even just a very little nick, now I would have a perfect body to possess; Aurora's pales in comparison.»

The woman before their eyes was considerably older than them, her curly blonde locks falling below her shoulders, her heard adorned with two big horns Emma didn't know people could have. Of course, Emma had never met a dragon before either.

Maleficent looked at her long nails, curling her fingers as if they were claws. Another sigh escaped her plump lips before she trained her piercing blue eyes on them. «I guess I will need to kill the two of you myself, now.»


	7. cover your eyes, the devil's inside

_You wanted to meet a dragon, Emma? There you have it_.

Had she had time to do it, she would've scoffed at her own thoughts. Now was really not the time to dwell on her childish desires.

Killian was still covering her, hiding her from the woman's eyes, the blue irises shining wickedly, mirroring her grin.

After looking at them long enough to irritate them, Maleficent started to walk. Could ghosts walk, or did they float? Emma scolded herself; this was not the moment to be curious about ghosts.

«How cute, a princess consorting with a pirate. My, my, how times have changed. When I was still alive, dalliances like this would never happen. Oh, well, not so openly, at least.» She even added a wink for good measure.

Emma wanted to feel sick at the insinuation, not because of its nature, but because it'd been someone so evil to express it. She wasn't even surprised she'd not argued about having some kind of illicit relationship with Killian. It would probably come later on, when the danger was warded off. For now, her focus needed to be solely on the dragon slowly walking around the room like a predator.

Maleficent hummed, thoughtful, that glint in her eyes never disappearing, the maliciousness of her smirk irritating Emma. «If I were your mother, little princess, I would be very disappointed in you. However, since I clearly am not, I must say, I'm almost jealous. He really looks _tasty_.» It was not lost to Emma that she meant it both figurately and literally. She didn't know which one disgusted her the most.

«What do you want?» Emma gritted through her teeth, the jab exactly what she needed to react. She stepped out from behind Killian, standing by his side. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his jaw ticking. The woman had already mentioned she wanted to possess her body, but that wasn't all, there was some other purpose she was after.

«Me? It is you who came here, or am I mistaken?» the woman asked, feigning shock, her hand going to her chest in mock offense. After a few seconds, she shrugged. «What do I want? To get back to life, for one. Life as a spirit isn't as funny as it sounds: everyone's just so boring.» She tapped her chin with a finger, her long nail brushing her lips. « _Oh_! Yes, of course, I want power. Namely, yours, princess. Corrupting your light magic will be such a joy.»

Emma cocked her eyebrow. How on earth did the spirit believe she could possess her body? She didn't ask. «Sure. Not happening.»

Maleficent's loud guffaw sent shivers down Emma's spine. She shouldn't underestimate her, they were surrounded by her curse, after all. If she could create something so evil, she probably could do much worse.

«Such a foolish girl! Let me guess, my dear, Regina never explained what you can accomplice, did she?» There was a strange glint in her eyes. It reminded Emma of when the wolves would hunt, the thrill of it oozing off of them. Sometimes, Emma could even _smell_ it. She'd seen them in action, fangs glistening with fresh blood, pearly teeth digging into their prey's flesh as easily as a knife sliced through butter.

It was the mention of her step-Grandmother's name, however, that had Emma taken aback. Her brave façade fell, leaving confusion in its wake. «How do you-»

«How do I know the Evil Queen?» Maleficent sneered, turning her body completely towards Emma. Despite her seemingly uncaring and amused expression, Emma caught a trace of pure ire. «She was the apple of my eye. Fitting, isn't it? Didn't she poisoned your mother using an apple? I was so proud of her, shaping her into the powerful witch she could be, succeeding where her own mother couldn't.»

Scared couldn't even begin to describe how both Emma and Killian felt at the mad pride in her voice. Albeit Emma knew what Regina could be capable of, she feared what would've happened if Maleficent had actually managed to subjugate her. Would that be the point of no return after which Regina would actually cast the curse?

The ghost's deep sigh brought snapped Emma out of her dark thoughts. «Poor Regina, she even got _this_ close to casting the dark curse,» Maleficent went on, thumb and forefinger of her right hand almost touching next to her glinting eye. Only then Emma noticed how her pupils weren't two dots, but slits. Her heart started beating furiously. «I was so sure she would cast it: it wasn't as if she wasn't a killer, she did murder me to get the scroll, after all.» The look of pure shock on Emma's face made the dead witch gasp melodramatically, her hand going to cover her mouth. « _Oh_! You didn't know that, did you? How strange, Regina really loves to talk about herself.» A shrug, and her face twisted in disgust. «But then her mother had to ruin everything.»

From that point forward, Emma knew how the story went: as Regina was about to cast the curse, Cora appeared, crushing her husband's heart to dust and neutralizing all her efforts. At first, Regina had disappeared into thin air for a few years, rarely using her magic and hoping her mother wouldn't find her. After, Snow had taken her in, but Cora never acted as if she wanted to hurt Regina, not even when she sided with George. In fact, the only one able to cross the barrier in and out of Misthaven was Regina.

But Emma mind was done with the past, she was starting to gather all the information she ever read about ghosts, planning, scheming, or at least trying to. Spells escaped her, she'd never studied anything about spirits. One thing Emma knew for sure, however: the only way to hurt a ghost was fighting them as one.

Bright blue eyes seemed to pierce right through her, predator irises already savouring their prey. «I shouldn't be surprised your power is so weak,» Maleficent spat the last word, nose scrunching and lips showing perfect teeth. A shrug followed. «Oh well, it's not your abilities I want anyway.» Her gaze shifted, taking in Killian's figure from head to toe. «Your pirate, on the other hand…» She even had the audacity to lick her lips.

 _Disgusting_ , Emma thought, her thoughts clearly visible on her face as her features twisted in repugnance. Not that Killian himself was disgusting, but the thought of having a sex slave made her feel sick.

Next to her, Killian stepped forward, bloodless knuckles gripping the hilt of his cutlass. Although partially hidden, Emma could still see sheer anger darkening his expression, but she could also catch an unmistakable glint of fear at the dragon's words. Had he perhaps been forced to bed someone unwillingly?

«Over my dead body,» Killian seethed, voice as hard and cold as magical, unbreakable and unmeltable ice. Emma was glad she wasn't the one those words were addressed at.

Suddenly, wind picked up around them and magic filled the atmosphere, almost suffocating Emma as it overcame the oxygen she needed to breathe. Her eyes fell back on Maleficent, whose irises were now gold. «That, my pet, can be arranged.»

It happened so fast Emma hadn't even the time to blink as she was propelled backwards, the only care she took was to try and fall as far away from the wall as she could, curling up in a ball. No magical shield came up to protect either her or Killian, the rapidity in which Maleficent had moved taking her off guard.

Blinking her eyes open, Emma looked up towards Killian. He was still standing, rolling his shoulders and craning his neck as if-

 _Fuck_. Emma gasped scrambling to her feet to put as much distance between Killian and herself.

«Ugh,» Killian complained, «men.» He turned towards her, tilting his head, but looking at her weren't the eyes she'd come to be obsessed with, those eyes didn't have pupils in the shape of two thin slits.

Emma wanted to cry.

Killian's lips pulled back in a smirk. It wasn't _his_ smirk, not even close to it, and all Emma could feel was repulsion whereas she once felt butterflies invading her stomach as she tried to drown or bury them alive. «Such a sad expression, _love_ , don't you like what you see?»

If once butterflies had inhabited her stomach, now all she could feel was bile rising to her throat. She'd been so stupid, she should've put up a ward, thought of something, _anything_ to save Killian.

But how could Maleficent take possession over his body when she couldn't Emma's?

«Ah, you must be confused,» he – _Maleficent_ – laughed, sneering at Emma. «Quick lesson, Princess: I am the Mistress of all evil, there's little I cannot do. My… _condition_ doesn't allow me to take possession over the living for long, and surely I can't fathom entering your fragile body, your magic would destroy me. Thanks to you, however, I have a vessel – a very nice one.» Her smirk widened, making Emma's skin crawl. «You should know that we can _feel_ everything when we possess someone, their thoughts and feelings have no secrets. Wouldn't you like to know what this pretty face thinks about you?»

 _No!_ , her mind screamed. As much as she wondered what Killian thought, she would never disrespect him by letting a witch mess with his head. It would mean betraying his trust, and Emma would hurt herself before she did that.

«Don't you dare,» she gritted her teeth, magic prickling beneath her skin. «Free him. _Now_.»

Killian's laugh broke her heart: it didn't sound at all like _her_ Killian's, it wasn't rich or warm, nor did it make her feel special, as if she _belonged_. It was a stranger's laugh, and all Emma wanted was to rip the ghost's throat. Unfortunately for her, the fact alone that Maleficent was a ghost put a damper in her plans. Not to mention she didn't want to hurt Killian.

Killian – _Maleficent_ – shrugged, shaking his head. «Nay, he's the perfect mean to end you, my dear, you wouldn't want to hurt the man you fancy, would you?»

The raised eyebrow on Killian's face, his signature gesture because, gods, those eyebrows could rise high on his forehead, made Emma's stomach churn. She had to free him, and soon. What had become of him? Where was his soul? Were heart and mind still intact? Was _he_ still intact? A sob threatened to spill from her lips, catching in her throat.

Emma pointedly ignored the witch's jab, deciding not to give her the satisfaction of knowing she was able to read like Killian did. Or was it perhaps inhabiting Killian's body what gave her this ability? Could Killian tell she had-

«You want me to fall under the course, don't you?» She needed to buy herself time, she needed to understand how to defeat Maleficent without hurting Killian. Could she? Maleficent said she couldn't possess human bodies for long, could she dare taking her time until she was weak enough? Then what? Emma would be back at square one.

Could she hurt the witch without causing damage – permanent or not – to Killian? What could she do? Things like exorcisms – which she'd never performed and, hopefully, never will – wouldn't work. Pouring salt over the spirit's bones and burn them? Absolutely not.

There was only one thing she could do but it would buy her just some time, not even much, perhaps not even a second if Maleficent understood what she was up to. On her side, Emma had only the hope that the witch couldn't summon any kind of power in Killian's body.

Her eyes fell on the grimoire, wondering whether it contained a spell that could banish a ghost forever.

Hoping Maleficent didn't have any sort of power, Emma conjured a pouch of black salt, used to contain the evil, she kept hidden behind her back, eyes still on the witch. On Killian. Gods, it was torture.

«Alas, my curse only works if taken willingly.» A grin spread over Killian's face, a grin that wasn't Killian at all. «Oh, had I been still able to, I would've cursed these lips.» He sauntered towards her in a way that would've made her knees weak had he really been himself. He bent so his mouth was close to her ear, whispering words that made her skin crawl. «I bet you would've kissed them willingly.»

Briefly closing her eyes, Emma decided enough was enough. As fast as she could, she opened the pouch and poured its content on the ground, flicking her left wrist to make the salt settle in a circle around them.

Just as his nose brushed over her cheek making her stomach churn, Emma stepped back, out of the black circle. Without taking her eyes off of Maleficent, Emma went to retrieve the grimoire, leafing through it in search of a way to banish ghosts but-

«Love?»

Instinctively, Emma snapped her head up, blood rushing to her cheeks at the endearment, only to remember a fraction of second lather that that wasn't _her_ Killian.

His blue, laughing eyes dropped to his right. «You missed a spot,» he said, turning the cutlass, its pointed end twisting between two stones. Black salt fell from the blade, leaving a gap in the circle.

Emma watched it fall in horror. She didn't see the cutlass come up, his body lunging at her until it was too late and she was knocked on the floor as a roar erupted from Killian's throat. The blade got stuck into one of the rotten bedposts next to her head.

She hadn't imagined it, the light she'd seen in his eyes wasn't madness, it was fury. For a moment, Killian had been in control. A warm feeling made her heart throb beneath the blanket of dread it was wrapped in. Maleficent was slipping, her hold on him weaker by the second, but Emma couldn't still face Killian with her magic, she couldn't take the chance that she could hurt him.

She stepped back, her own sword raised between them. If the witch could not only get into Killian's head but also use his abilities to fight her, Emma would be doomed unless she used her magic. She knew defensive spells, but how would they respond to not only a human body but a spirit, too?

Not even a moment to find a reasonable answer was given to her, Maleficent taking over Killian once more and lunging at her, cutlass raised and ready to kill her. No, _not_ kill: Maleficent needed her alive, she needed to take the curse willingly. Any blow would never be fatal. It would drain her, perhaps, make her weak, maybe weak enough to choose the curse over death. Emma hoped she wouldn't be put in front of that decision.

Parring Killian's blow wasn't pure luck, but the way pain shot up her arm at the impact made her feel so. There was no point in pleading him to stop, because that wasn't Killian, and she couldn't plead him to come back to her either, since he was already trying, succeeding even for a moment.

«I didn't know you would be this pathetic, Princess,» Maleficent snarled, Emma's heart breaking as Killian's voice pronounced those words, cutting through her like a blade. «Not using your magic because you fear you'll hurt him? Are you already in love with him, or do you just lust after him?» Killian's eyes lit up in a way that made her stomach churn. «Or perhaps you think he's your True Love. Oh, yes, of course you do.» Killian's head cocked sideways. «Poor little Emma, all alone, unloved, unable to find her place in the world, wondering if she'll ever find a home.»

Emma was now speechless, sword trained in front of her. It moved easily to the side when Killian's fingers rose to push it away as he came closer. She could've easily hurt him, or at least do some not-permanent damage to him, enough to probably let him slip free from the witch's claws, but no, she stood still, uncapable of even breathing regularly, her chest rising and falling fast as cold enveloped her heart like it did after a run and she was out of breath.

Killian's presence, now so close to her, his body almost touching her. What only minutes earlier would've been a contact she craved, one that would ignite the blood in her veins, sparking the desire she never felt for anyone else.

His breath hotly brushed down her throat, a caress that made her skin crawl in disgust, feeling like a snake slithering up her body and curling around her throat. The tip of his nose nudged her cheek. «You'd love for him to push you against the nearest wall, to _devour_ you the way you never thought you wanted to be.» Killian's fingers tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Emma's chin trembled. «You want him to kiss you, and you want him to consume you so deeply you'll be ruined for other men, if there will ever be. You want him to treat you as if you were the only woman for him, to make you feel _loved_.» A dark, deep chuckle left his mouth, scalding her as if it were pure dragon's breath. «But I'll let you on a secret, _love_ : he craves you, too.»

Emma was numb, now, unable to move, Maleficent's words echoing in her empty mind, a dark pit in which Killian's voice had reached the most isolated part of her, the one _he_ knew how to speak to. Rationally, she knew it wasn't really him talking, that it was manipulation, but even the fleeting thought that he _could_ desire her was-

 _No!_

Snapping back to herself, Emma's hand shot up. If Killian truly wanted her, he would tell her when he was in his right mind. The possibility that it was only a ruse tore her heart apart: had it been the witch's claws digging into the tender muscle it would've hurt less.

Killian's body flew backwards, cutlass flying from his hand, clattering on the stone but not depriving him – or Maleficent – of a weapon to use against Emma, not when an efficient weapon was the man himself.

«Don't you dare,» Emma seethed, eyes narrowing into thin lines. Magic flared in her palms, _flames_ snapping at the air. She'd not conjured fireballs like Regina's, using the fire as an armor, one she hoped wouldn't be needed. Although she could easily heal him, she didn't want to hurt him in the first place. She cared about him too much to even _think_ about it, even if it would save her own life, even if she knew he would forgive her.

Killian rose to his feet, brushing dust off his clothes. Emma was startled by how _Killian_ that gesture was. But the witch hadn't left his body yet, and if she didn't do it on her own, Emma would make sure she would herself.

Suddenly, cold wrapped around her, trying to sink into her bones but gently. Looking in front of her, Emma saw Killian's – no, the _witch_ 's – expression. She was annoyed, but she clearly couldn't do anything without her magic. _I can still take her down_.

« _Let me in, Princess_.»

Emma was too stunned to wince, her body numb because of the cold. It'd been the sleeping beauty speaking those words, her spirit strong enough to manifest itself but not as strong as Maleficent's, needing permission to take possession of a body. But that wasn't it, and Emma knew that: Aurora wouldn't do what the witch did to Killian.

She wasn't sure what good would do her, the princess didn't have magic-

« _I have the knowledge you need_.»

Sucking in a breath, Emma parted her lips, Killian's face etched in anger in an expression that didn't quite belong to him. _I will save you_ , she tried to tell him with her eyes, ignoring the scoff he let out, because she wasn't talking to his body, she wanted to reach his _soul_.

It was all the invitation the princess needed to let herself into Emma's body, not exactly taking over her body, but it wasn't a pleasant sensation either. She felt violated and cold, gasping for air as if she was drowning and couldn't find her way back to the surface, blocked by a thick layer of ice.

Before she could completely fall into a spiral of panic, Emma felt control slip back into her hands; she never felt as relieved as she did in that moment. There still was a strange sensation, as if her body suddenly felt tighter around her. It felt like having run out of space, but not quite as suffocating as it'd been in the beginning.

All the while, Maleficent was waiting, her expression wary. No, it didn't belong to Killian at all, even if Emma had never seen such emotion cross his face.

«It's useless, princess,» Killian's voice echoed in the room, and it seemed as if both witch and vessel were communicating the same thought: it was useless for Aurora to try to fight Maleficent as much as it was useless for Emma to try and save Killian. Pain tugged at Emma's heart.

Emma tilted her head to the side, a gesture that wasn't entirely hers. When she spoke, her voice belonged to her, but her words did not. «Is it, though? You may have haunted my people, killed my own True Love, but I had time to learn myself.» She chuckled, a sound that froze Emma's blood in her veins: looking at her, she wouldn't picture the sleeping princess as someone who could laugh in front of a witch almost fearlessly. However, said princess had been asleep for centuries, and Emma wasn't a regular princess either.

Out of the blue, words filled her mind, verses of an enchantment she'd never heard of in one of those dead languages Regina always wanted her to learn.

As her mind learned the spell, the spirit spoke through her mouth once again: «You've never given me much credit, Maleficent, but I must thank you for that, because it allowed me to seek information unnoticed. You're not the only one who's been waiting for the Savior to come along.»

«You little beast.» Anger flared in Killian's irises, terrifying Emma, too. His eyes moved to her side, a devious gleam fuelling those irate flames. Whereas Killian was subtle, Maleficent wasn't, clearly used to do everything on her own, using magic to gain the upper hand.

This time, as he lunged forward to pick up the cutlass and end the princess' life, Emma wasted no time in pushing Killian back with her magic. His body twisted in the air just like her guts did inside her in disgust, stomach dropping at the way he hit the stony floor. She wanted to run to him, to make sure he was alright, but Maleficent still held tight on him.

Using those moments, Emma let Aurora's spirit to pronounce the spell with her, blinding white light erupting from her hands as she conjured an urn, runes engraved around its larger part in a language Emma knew she'd seen already but never had the opportunity to invest in.

Somehow, Emma knew what it would do without the need for the princess to tell her, but she needed to free Killian first. For a moment she could see his body surrounded by a transparent gleam, sign of the witch's weakening hold.

More words swirled in her mind, but this time she recognized which spell it was. _So much for hoping never to perform an exorcism_ , Emma sighed to herself, right hand raised in front of her as words left her mouth, her lips out of her control, just like her magic. In that moment, with her powers responding to someone else's will, Emma felt more violated than she did when the spirit first possessed her.

A scream lacerated the air, Killian's complexion turning red as he trashed on the floor, his hands clawing at his throat. Inside, Emma sobbed, but no such emotion showed on her face.

Her lips kept moving as the ghost kept trying not to leave Killian's body, long nails and clawed rings grasping at his body and leaving invisible scratches, wounds Killian didn't spot but Emma was sure he could _feel_.

Emma's voice broke as she pronounced the last word of the spell and began again, chanting it with more tenacity as another shriek pierced her ears, this one feminine. The deep satisfaction she felt wasn't entirely hers, it belonged to Aurora: this was as much as Emma's way to stop the witch as it was the princess' revenge. Given what she'd done to Killian, however, it probably wasn't just one sided.

As another pained scream tore through Killian's throat, Emma knew it definitely wasn't.

Growling under her breath, Emma curled her fingers into a fist, as if gripping the ghost in her hand, tugging it away from Killian.

« _It's time_.»

Emma didn't ask for what: she brought her hand back, twisting the cap of the urn and pointing it towards the ghost. Suddenly, the wind picked up, creating a twister in the room, the frail wood of the windows rattling because of it.

She brought her hand up again, chanting the exorcism a third time. Killian's back was arching off the floor, lower lip pulled between his teeth so forcefully blood tinted it a deep red. _Enough_ , she told herself, taking over Aurora's anger and focusing on her own. _Magic is emotion_ , Emma reminded herself, and a new, fresh and stronger surge of power travelled through her veins, cutting through her blood like a ship through a tempest braving the roaring sea.

Silence fell abruptly, making Emma feel dizzy, head spinning as if the twister had caught her in its grasp, too.

She conjured the cap over the urn, moving from where it'd fallen on the floor, locking Maleficent away, hopefully forever.

A gasp left Emma's lips as Aurora's spirit left her body. The urn fell from her trembling hands, but stayed closed. For a moment, Emma felt empty, still prey of the numbing cold gripping at her heart. Soon, that cold merged into pain, and she rushed to Killian's side, dropping onto her knees next to him, hands reaching out in agitation: she needed to make sure he was still alive, that she could still feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm and that he still was himself.

«Killian!» she cried, brushing her fingers over his neck and down his chest, searching for his pulse, fingertips combing through his soft chest hair as her other hand cradled his face, thumb brushing over his scruffy cheek. «Killian, please!»

 _Come back to me_.

Tears fell over his face, sliding down his nose and lips. Emma never thought she would cry this way for someone she met not long ago, but if there was one thing she'd found herself unable of doing, was stopping Killian Jones to worm his way into her heart.

«Come back to me,» she whispered, a breath away from his lips, longing to touch them, to kiss him until they both forgot the cold and could only relish in the flames even simply an innocent contact sparked.

Killian's warm breath hit her lips as he parted his own, gasping for air as if he'd been drowning. Emma knew the feeling, just as she knew for him it'd been ten times worst, the ice thicker and the water colder. But he was here, he was alive. He'd come back.

«'Ello, beautiful,» he panted, lips curling up in what he wanted to be a smirk but transformed into a grateful smile, one Emma mirrored as she pressed her forehead against his, arms wrapped tightly around him, searching for the warmth she'd thought she forever would be denied of.

Beneath her palm, Killian's heart beat steadily, echoing her own.


	8. I'm longing to be lost in you

**A/N: It's here! Feels™ are here! kmomof4 and carpedzem this chapter is for you! Sorry if I've been almost baiting you with this since Saturday but, uhhh, life? I guess? Thank you for being so supportive. Thank ALL of you readers for bein so patient with me!**

 **This chapter puts an end to their first adventure and teases a bit of their second, which will be a bit clearer - I guess - in the next one. For now, enjoy ;)**

 **8 - I'm longing to be lost in you**

Emma's forehead was still gently pressed against Killian's, and it was sheer force of will – or stupidity – that kept her from peppering his face with kisses in relief that he was still alive.

Slowly, she realized Killian had placed one hand on her waist, thumb circling over the leather of her waistcoat as his fingers wound through her hair, bringing her closer.

«I'm fine, love» he whispered, not sounding fine at all, but his nose was brushing her, now, and she felt like melting. It was a strange sensation, one she was completely unfamiliar with and didn't feel like letting go of it. «Your nose is cold.»

She couldn't help but chuckle at that, losing her inner battle and kissing the tip of Killian's nose. She could feel the hitch in his breath and her heart fluttered at the sound. Uncapable of pulling away from him, Emma stared into his bright blue eyes, seeing in those irises the promise of a freedom she longed to have and she knew he would give her weren't it for the glint of insecurity crossing his features like a shooting star.

And like a star would, it burnt her.

Forbidding her smile to turn into a sad one, Emma forced it to stay as it was and pulled away from him, resting for a moment back on her knees and trying not to read much into Killian's expression. She helped him stand, hand slipping away from his when he could clearly keep his balance. Where he'd touched her, Emma's skin burnt.

Before she could step away from him, Killian grabbed her arm gently but resolutely, drawing her gaze back on him. There may have been a silent plea in Emma's eyes, but in Killian's, oh, in Killian's there was just too much hate. She knew it wasn't aimed at her, rationally, she knew it was for the witch that had possessed and exposed him, yet she could _feel_ he was angry at _himself_.

«Emma,» he whispered lowly, bowing his head for a moment and clenching his free hand into a fist, tremors shaking him from head to toe.

She didn't let him continue, placing her own hand over his and squeezing it. «No, Killian,» Emma murmured, the soft smile stretching her lips a sad one, «you didn't do anything wrong.» Her hand slid up his arm, caressing his neck with the back of her fingers until the came to rest on his jaw. «If anything, your strength helped me take the bitch down.»

The way his eyebrows shot up in surprise filled her heart with that same warmth she felt every time he was around; she didn't even need to _see_ or _hear_ him: it felt as if he was stepping over an imaginary boundary. In the very beginning, Emma had felt threatened by it, but not because she was afraid of Killian, nay: it was because she didn't trust _herself_. Oh, the way she reacted to his presence, always jumping in surprise, looking at her side or behind her, as if expecting to find him right _there_. Not even now she knew why that was, why her body and magic reacted to Killian that way, all she knew was that it wasn't unpleasant at all. Quite the contrary. And this scared and excited her even more.

Emma could see his hesitation in letting her go, and she felt angry at herself at the sudden relief that washed over her when Killian removed his hand, briefly clenching that one into a fist, too, before looping his thumb over his belt buckle.

Disappointment followed like a tidal wave, crashing against the relief and drowning it: she didn't want him to shield away from her, to keep her at arm's length. Then she realized: her own hesitancy had pushed him away.

 _Fuck_ , Emma cursed mentally, wanting, _needing_ for things to get back to the way they were before. All she could do for now, though, was making him understand she still saw him as a partner, a man of honour. «I'd say we make quite the team.»

The way his eyes lit up like actual stars made her heart do somersaults, starting then to beat wildly, like a little bird's wings, almost wanting to come out from her chest and come to rest on Killian's palms.

It was too much at the wrong moment.

The smile illuminating Killian's face risked being the last straw. Thankfully, adverting her eyes, Emma's gaze fell on the urn.

 _One problem at a time_ , she chided herself, bending to pick it up. It felt heavy in her hand, magic oozing off of it in an alarming way. It was neither light or black, or rather, it was a strange, unexplainable, intriguing combination of both.

Instinctively, Emma looked at the sleeping princess, wondering what else she knew.

As she stepped towards the bed, her feet hit something. Glancing down, she saw Maleficent's grimoire.

Emma's breath hitched in her throat.

Such knowledge was a tempting offer, yet she'd seen what it could do, and as much as she knew her magic was light, how could she be certain it wouldn't be corrupted the more she learned those spells and potions? But what if it could offer more answers, remedies to curses she would encounter on her path? What if something as dark could bring light into the world?

On a whim, Emma bent once more, taking the book with her free hand.

For a moment, she felt like a scale, balancing good and bad. How could she, though, when in both there was the same amount of darkness and light?

Killian's hovering, calming presence worked its own magic, sweeping over her like a breeze carrying perfumes of home. Emma knew he was mere inches away, his breath toying with golden strands of hair. He didn't question her or her motives: whatever she decided, he would support; whatever she did, he would stop her from becoming like that witch.

He would try to keep her _Emma_ no matter the fact that he didn't own any form of magic.

A lone tear ran down her cheek, glad he couldn't see it fall on the floor between her feet. Emma was under no doubt that he knew.

She looked down at the grimoire in her hand. «I've always believed curses could only be broken with True Love's kiss. Of course the witch who brewed the original sleeping curse thought of another remedy.»

«Contingency plan,» Killian spoke behind her, his breath scalding against the nape of her neck. «If someone used her own weapon against her, she would have an antidote.» He stayed silent for a moment. «I wonder if she ever found her own True Love.»

There was sadness in his voice, but not for Maleficent, no, how could he? No, Emma knew whom he was thinking of, and all she wanted to do was turn around and let him know there was someone who cared about him still.

«She must've had someone to help her, some minion she'd entrusted with a vial of blood from the product of True Love.» Emma shuddered at the thought, turning slightly to hand him the urn. Once he took it, eyes boring into hers with such intensity she thought she might burst into flames. Brushing her fingers down his torso, fingertips hovering over his vest, Emma reached the dagger at his waist, unsheathing it. The hungry fire in Killian's irises threatened to consume her. In any other moment, she would've stepped into the flames willingly. For now, she settled on a smile and the gentle touch of her fingertips over the warm hand at his waist.

With the grimoire in one hand and the dagger in the other, Emma stepped towards the bed. She placed the book on the old mattress, not needing to read it again to know what she needed to do. She raised her left hand, swiftly cutting her palm. Pain shot through her arm, paralyzing her for a moment.

Internally, she cringed when she moved her closed fist over the princess' mouth, letting a few droplets of her blood fall onto the pale pink lips. Emma hoped she didn't have to make her actually _drink_ her blood and that just a tiny bit was enough.

The moment her blood came in contact with Aurora's lips, however, a powerful surge of magic spread all around them, almost knocking them off their feet.

For a second, nothing changed, nothing but the silence, broken by Aurora's quiet gasp as her eyes flew open.

Although they couldn't compete with Killian's, her blue irises were a sight to behold. They weren't dull as someone would think after centuries spent hidden behind closed eyelids, untouched by the light, but the bright light blue of hydrangeas.

Slowly, the brunette sat up, Emma offering her a hand so to help her stand. Aurora's every movement seemed studied in the detail when Emma could sense it was just simple, innate grace. A pang of envy shot through her but, as quickly as it came, Emma shrugged it off. Now was not the time for regrets.

«T-thank you,» Aurora began hesitantly, eyes flickering from Emma to Killian and then back to the blonde.

«I'm afraid we are the ones to thank you, Your Majesty.»

Inwardly, Emma winced.

Killian had chosen the princess' rightful title: though she lacked a crown on her head, Aurora was the rightful queen to the kingdom.

It was strange to be in the presence of another royal after so long. It made Emma feel suddenly inadequate: she had no experience on how to rule over her people. Hell, she didn't even _know_ her people! How was she supposed to-

The sudden warmth of Killian's fingertips running up her spine sent shivers running down her arms, every hair on her body rising. Just as it had appeared, the pressure of his touch vanished, leaving her breathless. It was a way for him to admonish her, she had to pay attention and not wallow in self pity and regret.

Looking down at her hand, Emma saw the blood coating her palm, thick rivulets tracing patterns down her fingertips. The moment she registered she'd not healed herself, Emma felt her palm grow warmer and a faint light glowed in her palm. Once it subsided, her skin was completely healed and stainless. That was a first.

«You are more powerful than you think, Savior.»

Aurora's voice had Emma's head snap upwards to look at her. The princess – no, the _queen_ 's expression was solemn. It scared her.

From serious, Aurora's expression turned bashful as her cheeks turned a bright shade of red. Life was starting to come back to her, but did she still have one? Her parents, all her relatives, her True Love, they were all dead, along with the subjects she may have known once upon a time. No one needed a queen, here, and somehow, Emma doubted Aurora could just mingle with the villagers.

«I wouldn't ask this if I didn't deem it important, but I suspect I can't wear one of my old dresses,» Aurora began, nose slightly wrinkling in disgust as she saw the ruined pieces of fabric, a sorrowful frown marring her features an instant later, surely cataloguing what she'd lost during all those centuries.

Or maybe not. After all, she'd been a ghost, or a spirit, whatever the right term was, and she'd seen the world change, she knew everyone she loved was already dead.

Emma didn't hear Aurora's request, coming back to reality when Killian's fingers brushed down her back once more.

Her face growing warm, Emma licked her lips, unable to form a coherent answer. She'd talked about dresses, hadn't she?

«What colour?» she finally blurted out, gaze wandering and focusing everywhere but on the princess. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma could see the small but warm smile curving the queen's rosy lips.

Aurora looked down at her lilac gown: despite the centuries, it was in good conditions, unlike the ones in shreds. Apparently, the curs preserved not only the body but the clothes, too. However, Emma could understand why Aurora was asking her for a change in her wardrobe.

With a sympathetic smile, Emma raised her hand slightly, studying the woman's clothes. She needed something that made her stand out but hide from indiscreet eyes when the situation called for it.

Emma was no seamstress, but she'd also lived a life in which, without her magic, would've forced her to wear torn clothes until she couldn't afford new ones. The pack had been very much grateful to her when she'd provided new garments for them without them asking for it. Nobody ever dared, the respect they had for Emma too strong, much like their pride. She may not indulge in beautiful gowns anymore, but that didn't mean she didn't have any kind of taste or longing to dress comfortably and look good, not for the others, though: for herself. It gave her the illusion of being in control of her life, of being a princess still.

Shaking her head, Emma bit back a yearning sigh.

White-grey smoke enveloped Aurora, who let out a quiet gasp. When the cloud dissipated, the queen was dressed in a lilac velvet gown, the waistline low and defined by a belt which silver embroidery could be found on the cuffs wrapped around her elbows and from which pale lavender silk descended forming bell-like sleeves. The same precious fabric delineated the chaste neckline, but what captured the attention was the silver vine lace embellished by gems.

It was a dress fit for a queen no matter how simple it looked.

Aurora beamed at Emma, making the latter smile widely in return.

«What are you going to do, now?»

The smile on the queen's face didn't disappear, but it might as well did. «During my time under the curse I reached out to the fairies, it was their leader, Reul Ghorm, who told me about the urn. They don't usually mingle with human beings, except on very rare occasions, as you very well know, they have their own agenda and all they did was teach me the spell to summon the urn, then where to find you. As a spirit, I couldn't move too far away and for too long, and at first I couldn't movie but a few feet from my own body.» A sad chuckle left her lips. «Of course I couldn't, what kind of course would it be, otherwise?» Tucking away a strand of hair, Aurora went on: «They agreed to take me in for a while. After all, three of them were my godmothers, and they do feel responsible for what happened.»

Emma could picture Killian silently raising an eyebrow behind her. She wondered if he ever met a fairy before. Perhaps she'd ask him later.

Though she could have, Emma didn't offer Aurora a place on the Jolly: it wasn't her decision to make. However, she couldn't let the queen just face the world alone. «How far-» Emma started, interrupted by a blue light coming in from the broken window. She knew that light, she'd seen many times when she was a little girl, trying to hide behind her mother's gowns whenever it was near. Now, instead, anger filled her along with a fear of unfairness: why was Blue here _now_? Where had she been all these years she'd needed her?

Squaring her shoulders, Emma wore an impassive look on her face, her eyes as hard as jade and her mouth set in a firm, thin line.

When she finally manifested herself in human form, Blue was wearing a bright, warm smile. «Emma,» was the only greeting she gave before her eyes shifted and focused on the man behind her. Blue squinted slightly, icy smile never fading as she greeted him. «Captain Jones.» It was no wonder that she knew who he was, yet Emma couldn't help to shudder. «I believe you have something that belongs in a much safer place.»

Unexpectedly, Blue waited for Killian to hand her the urn, ringed fingers tightening around the artefact for a brief moment, as long as the blink of an eye, before he let it go. It looked like he didn't want to, as if he actually wanted to keep the urn. Did he want to deal with Maleficent by himself? Sorrow shot through Emma's body: of course he did, she'd violated him, after all.

«Thank you, Captain.» The tight-lipped smile the fairy wore widened and became warmer as her attention moved onto Aurora. «Are you ready to go, dear?»

A pang of something bloomed deep inside Emma, something that felt like a briar of roses, its thorns anchoring onto her and refusing to let go.

 _Jealousy_ , that was Emma felt, that was what was eating her from inside. All her life, Emma had known someone out there knew how to bring down Cora's barrier, how to defeat her forever, and that said someone were the fairies. Only, whenever she'd wished upon a star, no fairy ever appeared, none of them had wanted to help them. And now? Now their leader showed up as if nothing ever happened, as if they were still in good terms, but spared her only a glance and a mock of a greeting, focusing her attention on another woman she'd failed – or was unwilling – to help.

On one hand, Emma knew she was being unfair: Aurora _had_ been under a curse for more than two hundred years, and now everyone she ever loved were dead. Yet…

«Why?» she found herself asking the fairy, who now regarded her with confusion in her doe eyes. «Why did you show up after all this time? Why didn't you help her earlier?» _Why haven't you ever helped_ me _?_

Blue's expression shifted, and Emma would even dare say it was almost _regretful_. She snorted internally at the thought. «I'm afraid the answer you seek is not the one you want to hear, Emma. Some things must happen in order to write the future how it has to be written and not how other people think it should be. It's my understanding that you already know about your other title, _Savior_.»

The fairy's words cut deeply, the confirmation that she knew hurting like a knife through the heart. So that was it? Her only excuse? How was that fair?

A warm hand was pressed against the small of her back, sending ripples of calmness through her whole body. She wanted to hate him for how easily he could calm her down with the lightest touch, but she couldn't. Emma knew trying to argue or even just get an answer out of Blue was a lost battle, all she could do was live with the disappointment she tasted in her mouth, its flavour as rotten as a spoiled fruit's.

Before she could ask more questions that would be left unanswered – or strangle the fairy – Aurora let out a low gasp, lilac fabric fluttering after her as she ran to the broken window, one hand gripping her skirts to keep them out of her way.

Emma's eyebrows rose as she saw the queen coo at whatever was on the windowsill. When she turned around, what could be easily mistaken as a dove but was in fact a cumulet was perched on her hand, talons gently digging into her index and middle fingers.

 _What_ -

«I know you,» Aurora was whispering, knuckle brushing over the soft feathers on the bird's neck, «you are not just any cumulet, are you?»

Instinctively, Emma turned her head, searching Killian's gaze. His own dark eyebrow was cocked as he returned her look. A warm sensation coiled in her stomach at the sight of his bright blue eyes.

Aurora's voice carried Emma's attention away from the man she longed to get lost into. «I believe I have to ask you for another favour, Savior.»

 _Do you, now?_ , Emma wanted to ask when a glance from Blue had her biting her tongue. It was as if the years hadn't passed, as if the fairy had never disappeared from her life. Part of Emma wanted her to be gone forever, the other one needed her to be by her side all the time. That was a foolish little girl's desire, Emma no longer should need a fairy by her side although she'd be a powerful ally. The person she needed by her side, however, was someone loyal to her, someone who would never betray her, and her heart knew who that person was.

«There's a restless soul in a kingdom not so far away, Savior,» Aurora began, eyes never wandering from the bird, «her True Love has been cursed to wander the lands forever. My friend won't find peace until she's reunited with him.»

Emma blinked several times, looking at Aurora with slowly increasing shock. «You want me to kill this person?» Was he a person, even? If the queen was talking about a friend, did she mean… Surely she- «How old is this man exactly?»

Was she really considering heeding Aurora's request and go _wherever_ in search for this lost soul and her cursed True Love?

Aurora's head snapped up, her mouth set into a thin line, eyes shining with disapproval. Emma laughed to herself: her mother had tried to scold her one too many times with a very similar look and she'd always failed. «They both are about as old as I am, if this is what you're wondering. Neither of them is still alive, although my friend the king is still alive, cursed to live forever, or so I've been told.»

There was a fragment of a second, only one, in which Aurora's blue eyes almost flickered towards Blue. It was brief, but it didn't escape Emma's attention. Perhaps the queen wasn't as foolish as Emma believed. However, Blue would never give them answers she didn't want to give, probably saying it wasn't up to her or that the time hadn't come yet.

Still, there was nothing that forced Emma to go. «Why should I help them?» It didn't seem that people had helped her so much against Cora, and there was no mistaking her words as her eyes zeroed on Blue.

As she expected, it was the fairy who answered. «Why not? You have so much to learn, Emma, both about yourself and your magic.»

 _You are of no use in Misthaven_.

Emma wanted to cry. She could clearly hear those unspoken words, she could see the flicker of pity in the fairy's eyes. Killian's hand pressed against her spine, trying to comfort her. She turned to look at him dead in the eyes, her lips moving before she could be aware of the truthful words she spoke: «It's not a decision I can take alone.»

It didn't matter whether Blue wanted her to go be the hero Emma didn't want to be, Emma would never dare make a choice without consulting with Killian first. If he didn't want to pursue whatever call she may have, Emma would give it up: how could she give up the freedom she felt whenever he was near for what, exactly? More unsatisfying answers? A life of sacrificing her freedom to help others? If she had to help people and kingdoms, Emma would do it willingly, not because a damned fairy told her to.

At Blue's clear tentative of objecting, Emma looked back at her with the determination of a queen in her eyes. She didn't care her choice might seem selfish, and it wasn't that she didn't care about stranger's lost souls when she was somewhat of a lost girl herself, but it was time she started doing something for herself.

She knew, even without looking at him, that Killian was regarding her with a startled expression. It made her heart ache: did he really think she wouldn't give him a choice? She wasn't like that, and after today she would think twice before trying to take his free will away from him by choosing for him.

Reluctantly, Blue nodded, attention moving onto Aurora, who had freed the bird and was looking longingly out of the broken window, her heart probably shattered as well. Exhaling a long sigh, Aurora squared her shoulders and nodded to the fairy before smiling politely and Emma and Killian.

«You will always have my gratitude, Emma. You, too, Captain. May the gods be with you both if you ever decide to set sail for Orléans.»

With that final blessing, Aurora and Blue were enveloped by a bright blue light. Emma had to close her eyes to shield herself from it. When the light ultimately faded, all they could see was what looked like a blue star floating out of the window.

Instinctively, Emma followed it, fingers resting on the windowsill, their pads brushing the broken glass there. The sting of the tiny shards digging into her skin was nothing to the astonishment at the sight of the forest outside: where once briars created a barrier between castle and village, now tall trees stood, their foliage so bright under the sun not concealed by the dark clouds anymore that it almost hurt to look at it.

«Breathtaking, isn't it?»

Killian's voice, so close behind her, made her wince slightly, the movement making her collide with his chest. She sucked in a breath, wondering what he would do, _if_ he would. So she waited, holding her breath. It took her a while to remember he'd asked her something. «Yes,» she breathed, still looking at the forest spread almost at her feet without really seeing it. «Yes, it is.»

They stood silently, each one lost in their respective thoughts, hearts thundering in their chests. For what seemed a century or so, neither of them moved if not to breathe, not even when their fingers itched to touch, to _feel_ each other.

At last, it was Emma who broke first, unable to bear that silence, that _distance_ between them anymore. She turned around, eyes looking up at him and heart breaking when she found him looking out of the window still, jaw clenched so tightly a muscle pulsed there.

«I think it's best we return to the Jolly, unless you want to be here when the villagers reach the castle.»

At her words, as if shaken out of a dream, Killian looked at her, but if she were to be honest, Emma felt she was looking at a stranger.

«Aye,» he agreed, voice somehow hollow as he swallowed, taking a step back from her. The fake smile he wore on his face broke Emma's heart. «Your… what did you call it? _Poofing_ method will make it easier for us to carry the chests to the ship.»

Despite the ache in her chest, Emma couldn't help to blush a little at his teasing tone, another mask she blatantly ignored in favour of the escape he was offering her. «We'd better deliver what goes to the villagers to Nifty.»

All Killian did was nod, moving further away from her. Emma watched his stiff back disappear in the dark of the staircase, sad eyes not noticing the golden briars had turned to dust, much like her heart.

* * *

Emma's head fell against the door of her cabin with a dull thud. She sighed, eyelids so heavy every blink was a battle. Part of her snorted at the thought that she'd just broken a sleeping curse.

She felt drained, both physically and emotionally, and she just knew that, if she somehow made it to the bunk, she'd fall asleep with her clothes on. For how long she would sleep, Emma had no idea. Probably the whole day and all through the night.

Using her magic to get back the ship with their reward and poof several chests heavy with riches right under Nifty's nose had been easy, almost like snapping her fingers. Part of her was wary of that: it was as if her magic had been somehow unlocked, as if something had shifted deep within her and made her even more powerful.

Was she? Aurora taking possession of her body had perhaps added to her magic? Could it happen? But if Emma had somehow absorbed the spirit's magic, why didn't she feel any different? All Emma felt was stronger.

With a frustrated groan, Emma marched to the chest at the foot of the bed. Inside lay her belongings, both clothes and Regina's supplies. Tempted as she was to throw Maleficent's grimoire inside, Emma carefully placed it next to her grandmother's, knowing one of these nights she would end up reading it. She'd already gone through a few pages of Regina's, some of her spells and potions too dark even for her, albeit useful.

The lid of the trunk fell shut with a thump, the wood creaking slightly under her weight when she sat down on it. As exhausted as she was, however, Emma knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep anyway, not when Killian felt so distant and her heart shattered in a million little pieces. After they'd appeared in one of the desert alleys near the docks and made their way to the Jolly, Killian had retired in his cabin without so much of a word, completely shutting her out.

It felt as if another barrier had been raised between her and another person she deeply cared about. Of course she couldn't compare that distance to the one dividing her from her parents, yet she couldn't stop herself from feeling as lost as she'd been since the separation.

This time, however, there wasn't a barrier physically separating her from Killian. Had Emma been a coward – and sometimes, admittedly, she was – she would've let him be, let him put an abyss between them, even. But, for the first time in her life, Emma had the chance to make her own fate, to decide whether or not she would fight for the man who filled her mind and dreams and, undoubtedly, had started to fill her heart.

Despite Maleficent's words, Emma wouldn't simply offer her heart on a silver plate or place Killian in front of an ultimatum: she was not bloody ready for the former and she would never have the heart to go for the latter.

What Emma could do, however, was going to him and lend him an ear, if not a shoulder on which to cry on. She feared that, if she left him alone for too long, he would drink himself to a stupor and become more and more detached.

It was time to take destiny in her own hands, no matter how terrifying that was.

Taking a deep, preparatory breath, Emma squared her shoulders and faced the door. Before she could even think of changing her mind, she marched out of the cabin and went straight for Killian's, the Captain's quarters, the inside of which she'd seen already yet her heart started beating faster when she came face to face with the door.

Beneath her skin, Emma felt her magic tingle, humming in apprehension. She knew it wanted to be used, to poof her to the other side of the door, because it meant she would enter for sure: a door between her and Killian meant a barrier, one he could choose to open or keep closed. The choice was in his hands, now, and somehow it scared her more than Cora's barrier.

Just like when she went through Cora's barrier, Emma inhaled deeply and raised her hand, bracing herself for whatever pain might come.

Her knock was soft against the hard wood and, for a few moments, she didn't hear anything behind it, not a sound, not a-

Dull footstep became louder, slow on their path towards the door, door that opened just slightly, enough for Killian to see who was disturbing him and for Emma to feel her heart skip a beat at the sight of the state he was in.

A whiff of rum, strong and piercing, reached her nostrils. To her, he didn't look drunk, though she'd seen on the very first night how much he could handle without looking so. No, his mind was clear, just like his eyes, clear and penetrating like a sharp shard of glass.

Masking her features, Emma returned his gaze, never betraying her feelings. They needed to talk, and she didn't want to run. She just hoped he didn't, either.

For moments, ages, probably, they stared at each other, neither of them wanting to step back, both pleading the other, one to do exactly that, the other to let her in.

Ultimately, Killian sighed, his breath smelling of his best rum but not in an unpleasant way. He opened the door enough to let Emma in. Ducking under his arm, Emma entered the dark cabin, the single candle on the desk the only light in the room, burning bright enough to cast pale gold shadows over the whole room, allowing her to make, even if barely, the neatly done bunk, a chest at the foot of it. Outside, stars and moon were both covered by impenetrable clouds.

It looked as if the curse had moved and settled over the Jolly, the magnificent ship still docked, waiting for the morning tide to set sail.

Swallowing the anxiety she felt fluttering inside her stomach, Emma located the rum, the flask right in front the chair Killian was occupying she interrupted him. With an impulsive rush of determination, Emma stalked to the desk. Up until she reached it, Emma didn't know what she would do, fingers grazing the smooth wood, tracing a path to the flask. Without giving herself time to think twice, she grabbed it and took a swing. The liquid burned her throat, its taste one she wasn't used to yet one she would gladly drink every so often.

Allowing herself to be daring, Emma hopped on the desk, crossing her legs and taking another swing of rum, taking all the liquid courage she needed.

Silently, she waited for him to make his move.

Barefoot, Killian made his way back to the desk, slumping down on the chair. Filing her shock away, Emma offered him the flask.

Killian accepted it, gulping down a good amount. Emma tilted her head, curious. «Does it refill magically?»

The words escaped her lips before she could think about biting her tongue.

«No,» he replied curtly. He could've just closed the door in her face, the pain would've been the same.

Emma sighed, titling her head back slightly, eyes shutting. _Now or never, Swan_. «How do you feel?»

Killian didn't flinch or make a sound, surely knowing that question was coming. She felt him gulp down so much rum she was sure the flask was now empty.

She didn't expect an answer. Honestly, she didn't know what she expected at all. For Killian to open his heart? For him to shout at her in anger?

«I felt cold,» she heard herself talking, eyes blinking away the memory. «It was like being trapped underneath a thick layer of ice and the water wanted to pierce my flesh, my body completely numb. I felt violated.»

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him handing her the flask. The rum burned still, doing nothing to make the lump in her throat disappear.

They passed each other the flask until Emma felt the last drop of rum fall on her lips. Humming, Emma twisted it in in her hand, enjoying the way the candlelight played with it. Feeling her mouth suddenly dry, she raised her free hand to conjure more rum in the flask when strong fingers curled around her wrist, cold rings biting into the soft skin of her tender flesh.

The gesture startled her more than the increasing discomfort, Killian's grip so tight it was cutting her blood flow.

«Don't,» he bit out through gritted teeth, his face impassive. Not even a moment later, Killian dropped his head, fingers unclenching so not to be hurtful anymore but not leaving her wrist. To Emma's utter surprise, he turned his head, rubbing his scruffy cheek over the tender back of her palm. «My apologies, love,» he muttered in shame, pressing his forehead on her hand. «I assure you, it is not your magic I despise but I must beg of you, enough magic for today.»

Tears pooled in her eyes, but Emma blinked them away. Placing the flask next to her, she then brought her hand to brush Killian's hair back, fingers threading through his soft, inky locks. He looked so broken it shattered her heart.

«Of course,» she murmured softly, the way her mother and father did when she was scared for some reason and spent the night reassuring her everything was fine. She couldn't help but wonder how long Killian had been without anyone to reassure him nothing bad would happen to him, that he had someone he could rely on.

As she kept running her fingers through his hair, Emma lost track of time, heart beating painfully for Killian. As for the pirate, he kept his lips pressed to her hand, eyes closed and demons inside his head. Emma wanted him to talk to her, she wanted to tell him she too wanted what he did. Alas, she knew it wasn't just a matter of what they wanted: his body and soul had been abused, along with his feelings.

Even just by looking at him Emma knew he wore that nonchalance as an armor, his innuendos and manners a mask to keep everyone at arm's length. But not Emma, never her. Sure, Killian had put up some walls between them, but so had Emma. Said walls had crumbled down in very little time without neither of them realizing it.

The candle was just a few inches tall when Killian spoke again, startling Emma.

«Don't you still feel cold?»

It was a soft murmur against her skin, nose brushing her wrist.

«A little,» Emma confessed. It was a lingering sensation, one she desperately wanted to make disappear. Fire wouldn't do, it was something buried deep within her that she hoped would fade with time.

Killian exhaled, his hot breath heating her skin. «Would it be cowardly of me if I wished for a magical solution to this cold?»

The words were muffled against her skin, as if he truly were ashamed of himself, of his pain, of wanting the easiest way out. She smiled down at him, knowing he couldn't see her. «Not at all. Possessions are really dark magic, so dark I doubt even my grandmother could do anything about it.» She hesitated, watching him carefully. «Perhaps I could find-»

«No,» he cut her off with a growl. «No more magic tonight.»

Biting her lip, Emma nodded. How could she make him feel better when all she could do was trying to search for a spell or potion? But what could magic do for him? Banish the cold inside? Fix him, somehow? No, magic could do many things, but not that, not unless it was done to manipulate a soul, and Emma would never do that, especially not to Killian.

 _Then talk to me, please_.

She didn't realize she'd pronounced those words aloud until she heard his sharp intake on her skin and his head snapped up, dull blue eyes meeting hers. Her hand slipped down his face, cupping his cheek.

«What do you want me to tell you, _Princess_?»

Emma's eyes widened at the sharp tone, heart thundering in her chest as his eyes became as thick as an ice wall. Oh, she knew what he was doing, she knew it very well: he was distancing himself, putting up another wall between them.

«Do you want me to confirm the witch's words are true? That I want to do to you everything she listed? That I want to push against the nearest wall and devour you in any way I see fit? That I want to consume you and ruin you for any other man whom you might lay your eyes upon because _I_ want to be the only man who can bring you pleasure, the only man who can make you feel loved?»

Now towering over her, Killian looked more dangerous than he'd been when Maleficent had taken possession of him: like this, author if his own destiny and responsible of his action, he could break her completely.

«Are they?»

Killian cursed under his breath, his hand leaving hears to run through his hair and down his face in desperation. «Does it even matter?!»

Now it was Emma's turn to look at him in shock. «Of course it does!» How could he think his feelings didn't matter to her? «Do you believe-»

«It matters not what I believe, Emma, I can't-» he cut himself off, looking away.

«You can't _what_ , Killian?» She was furious, now. It wasn't fair to him, but Killian making choices for her wasn't, either. «You can't think I might want you in the same way you want me?»

The words were now out there, hanging between them. Killian's eyes were wide in shock, and though she, too, was surprised by her outburst, how could she deny what she felt anymore? She'd marched into the cabin knowing very well that she'd either have her heart broken or get what she wanted.

From shocked, his expression turned hard once more. It confused her for a moment: how could he push her away when she'd clearly told him she did want him? «You don't want me, _Princess_ ,» he said slowly, ice coating his every word. «You might desire the idea of me, but you don't want _me_.»

Heart breaking for him, Emma couldn't still stop the rage inside of her. How dare he decide what _she_ wanted? Especially after he'd gone through earlier that day?

«You can be a very stupid man, sometimes, Killian Jones,» Emma breathed, reaching out her hands to grab the lapels of his black shirt to pull him down towards herself, chin tilted up so his mouth could meet hers.

Everything Emma knew about kisses came from seeing other people immersed in the act or instructions from Ruby. At first, the connection startled her, probably because she'd pulled him to her with so much strength she hadn't really considered how it would feel – other than good, of course.

The unfamiliar pressure of Killian's lips over hers set her body ablaze, spurring her on and making her braver than she definitely was. With the tip of her tongue she traced the seam of his lips, one hand sneaking around his neck to pull him closer.

A strangled moan reverberated against her lips, Killian's eyes fluttering close as he kissed her back, one hand placed firmly next to her to brace himself while the other found its way to her jaw.

Emma felt the moment he took over the kiss, clearly understanding how her inexperience in the matter made her movements awkward. Not that she cared much, if not at all, but the way he kissed her, prompting her to open her mouth and let him _devour_ her.

A keen left her lips when Killian's teeth nibbled at her lower lip. It was too much and too little at the same time, heat pooling in her belly like molten lava and skin buzzing, a sensation so similar to whenever her magic was awoken. Neither of them noticed every candle in the room light up around them, so lost in each other the world could just collapse over their heads and they would still be kissing, bodies melting into one another, tongues intertwined and bodies pressed together so closely Emma believed there was no way he could move closer until she locked her ankles behind his thighs and drew him flush to her body.

Gasping at the sensation of her breasts pressed against his chest, Emma dug her nails into his flesh in reflex and electing a moan from him in return. Her hands wanted to wander up and down his body, to explore every inch of him and imprint each one in her mind. She wanted Killian to explore _her_ , to worship her body as she would do his, to make her-

«Fuck,» she breathed when his hand left the desk to grab her waist, pulling her closer, so close she could feel the hardness in his pants. Against her better judgment – because she knew, oh, she really did, what consequences she could face and that such a step would mark her forever – Emma pushed herself against him, almost anchoring herself to his strong body. Beneath her fingertips she could feel his muscles flex, a sensation that made think of nails scraping down his spine as he thrusted deeply into her.

Moaning at the mere thought of crossing that point of no return, Emma rubbed herself against him, suddenly uncaring of the consequences. It was such an irresponsible thought, yet one that surely had crossed many a lass the moment their body was enveloped in their lover's arms, some of them foolishly falling for their lies and some others finding the love of their lives. Emma knew no lies were to be found in Killian Jones if not the ones he told himself, like the stupid belief that she would never want _him_. Emma didn't care about the pirate, no matter how his attitude and wardrobe set her on fire, so yes, perhaps she cared about it, but what she cared the most was the man underneath.

Even when they needed to come up for air they didn't pull away too much, either having their foreheads pressed together or their fingers tracing the other's face, their kiss-swollen lips or cheeks, gazing into each other eyes with incredulity as if they couldn't even begin to realizing it was finally happening: they had crossed a line with no possibility – nay, with no _interest_ of going back.

The smile Emma offered him was a shy one, red gracing the apples of her cheeks which deepened when his knuckles brushed the soft skin there yet Emma didn't avert her gaze, not wanting to miss the way his blue eyes sparkled in the now brighter room, or the way his lips were slightly parted and his panting breath caressed her face without being unpleasant.

There was wonderment in his eyes, as clear as the sun, and Emma felt her heart ache for him although it still seemed to want to burst with joy. For far too long Killian had been alone, and she knew, she _knew_ he'd believed no one would ever care about _him_ , the man he was and not the pirate persona he wore almost as an armor though irremediably part of him, almost as long. Killian might have promised her freedom because his profession allowed him to, but it had never only been the pirate she saw. Adventures, freedom, yes, those were all wonderful promises, but it was the man she'd decided to protect and then follow as her captain.

It was the man she was slowly but surely falling in love with.

Killian must have sensed where her thoughts were going because he gasped so quietly Emma wasn't sure she actually heard him and ducked his head to capture her lips with his once more, gentler this time, savouring the way they both taste of rum and the realization they both were-

Were interrupted by a knock at the door. An insistent, loud one Killian just knew belonged to Smee, and if the growl he emitted was any indication, he was totally planning the most satisfying and fastest way to get rid of his first mate.

«Don't move,» he ordered Emma in a low growl, clearly infuriated. He tapped her knee, rising a suggestive eyebrow at her.

Emma followed the order, heat burning her skin from beneath. Though she could still feel her legs enough to move them, she also knew they wouldn't sustain her if she tried to stand. Not that she wanted, of course. That was a very stupid thing to think.

Her head was still spinning, or at least it felt so, that she didn't even try to focus on the hushed tones in which Killian and Smee exchanged words at the door. Could she just wave her hand and lock them in for the night? _Or for the whole week, even?_

She must've been as red as a ruby because when Killian made it back to the desk he cocked an eyebrow at her despite his regretful stare.

«Is there a problem?» The way her voice sounded so hoarse made Emma wince in surprise. Her mind couldn't help but wonder how it would sound after she'd screamed Killian's name out in ecstasy. This was definitely not the right moment to think about that, especially given the expression on Killian's face.

«Aye.» A shiver ran down her spine upon hearing his voice, so rough and hoarse all she wanted to hear it whisper in her ear were praises and dirty words. «The lads got into a fight with Naval officers and they need someone to put a good word in for them.»

He moved to gather the cutlass hanging from a belt looped over the back of his chair and fastened it around his narrow waist. Emma's eyebrows crinkled in confusion.

«Does "put a good word in for them" means fighting more officers?» Apprehension was clear in her voice, she knew that, just like she knew she would help the crew in any way possible, whether it was by sword or by magic.

Killian shook is head, lifting her chin with a crooked finger. «Sometimes. Tonight shouldn't be the case, but I have to bargain with them. This is not the first time and I assure you it won't be the last.» He chuckled slightly. «As ridiculous as it sounds, sometimes we get along.»

Influenced by his good mood, Emma smiled. «But not as much as it would take for you to be good friends, right?»

«Right you are, love.» He dropped a kiss on her forehead, only to pull back and scratch behind his ear, blushing slightly, such a transformation from the passionate man he'd been mere minutes ago.

Deciding to ease his discomfort, Emma jumped down the desk, needing to reach out to him to keep herself steady. «I'd better go back to my cabin.» There wasn't resentment in her voice, not at all, she understood quite well not wanting her to stay there in the only place on his ship that Killian considered completely _his_ , no matter how much he might want her. One step at a time. Or something like that.

She reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him at the corner of his mouth, savouring the rich flavour of rum she could still taste against her lips. Yet it didn't stop there, no: after escorting her in front of her cabin, he pressed her against the door, taking advantage of the desert deck to kiss her thoroughly.

When Emma let herself almost literally collapse against the door after he'd left to tend very much less enjoyable business, she had forgotten already that no candle had been lit up when she'd left the cabin earlier that night.

All she had in mind as she marched towards the trunk, aside from the very obvious thought of Killian and the whirlwind of emotions she felt inside at the simple thought of his name, was her grandmother's grimoire.

She had a potion to brew, after all.


	9. Silent secrets, quiet hands

**hullo! First of all, thanks to the wonderful carpedzem for this wonderful, bloody amazing fanart for FATLAS *^* I love it so much!**

 **Back to the chapter, this, uhm, is mostly a filler chapter, it sets the basis for what comes next but gives you a bit of smut ;) So maybe you'll forgive me for not moving the plot along too much lol**

 **If you want, come say hi at darkcolinodonorgasm on tumblr :3**

 **Enjoy!**

 **9\. Silent secrets, quiet hands**

The rum burned her throat, a welcome sensation for a good reason after many swings taken out of desperation in the past few weeks.

Loud cheers echoed around her, a smile pulling at her lips as she saw men laugh and drink their pints of beer, men she'd almost lost to the cold hands of death.

Warm fingers danced over her corset, just above her waist, caressing the byzantium purple corset, something a tad more revealing that she was used to, hence why she kept looking down between her breasts, hoping her cleavage wouldn't show too much. Beneath the corset she was wearing a white shirt, barely noticeable since her shoulders were uncovered and the moss green cloak had sleeves hitting just below her elbows. What troubled her the most, however, was the dip at the center of the corset, its hem framed by golden metal.

She knew why she'd chosen such a seductive attire, with tight dark brown leather pants and bracelets she had fished out one of the chests they'd brought with them from Aurora's castle. Emma didn't quite feel like a princess, but somehow she felt free, free to wear jewellery and to be a bit more daring with her clothes. It wasn't just because of Killian, she knew that, it was more a self-discovery journey that allowed her to find herself.

Killian squeezed her hip. «I believe, no matter how many bastards look at your bosom, you are the one staring at it the longest.» He was teasing her, heat pooling in her belly at the way his voice echoed through her bones. Then, more seriously, he asked: «Do you want to change? Far from me to tell you what to wear, yet you seem rather uncomfortable.»

She shook her head. «It's not… uncomfortable, it doesn't feel so. I'm just not used to have all eyes on me, anymore. I probably never were, I was a too little to catch anyone's attention or to have suitors, if you don't count parents try to ask for my hand in marriage for their sons. The way they are staring at me is not uncomfortable. Well, it _is_ , but I know I could beat most of them, or wear them down. I'm just not used to being watched.»

The words left her mouth before she realized what she'd said. Her complexion turned red, glinting green eyes shifting away from Killian's smirk.

Unabashedly, he leaned forward, nosing her jaw. Her body fell prey to shivers, eyelids fluttering close. A shaky breath left her lips, fingers tightening around the black leather vest - another garment she'd become quite fond of.

In the last month, they'd never crossed the line between tender, passionate touches and other more enjoyable activities, a mistake Emma hoped would be fixed soon.

After they first kissed, Emma had started to brew a potion to prevent becoming with child. That had been an easy decision, really, she was too young and the life on the run wasn't ideal to raise a child. Besides, she and Killian hadn't discussed having children. They would just… fool around, which wasn't the right term either since feelings were involved, deep ones, feelings that scared them but made them feel complete at the same time.

She was supposed to wait the full moon to add some ingredients, given how it was believed that it influenced women's monthly courses.

Alas, another pirate ship had crossed their path, attacking them first and causing serious damage to the ship and the men. The fight had escalated quickly, bringing the ships close until Killian and his men boarded the other ship.

At first, Emma had fought on deck, her lessons with Killian and the matches against the other members of the crew had increased her ability with the sword, allowing her to help men she'd started to consider somewhat friends. Her magic had helped, too, Regina and Maleficent's grimoires pullulated with useful spells, some of which she'd never dare casting whilst some had demonstrated to be heaven sent.

Once the battle was over, they'd come out winners, but there hadn't been time to celebrate: men needed to be healed, wounds needed to be tended to, and corpses needed to have a proper burial.

Before she headed below deck to gather ingredients for healing potions and such, Emma had used much of her magic to cloak the whole ship, a huge feat given she'd never used that spell on such a large scale.

After securing the ship, Emma and those capable to, had helped the wounded, Emma's magic healing the most severe of injuries, otherwise she would've passed out, too drained to stay on her own two feet.

In that moment more than ever before, Emma had been grateful of her magic, but mostly of Victor, the ship doctor, man who didn't exactly fit the pirate persona with his peculiar attire and strange manners, clearly someone high-born. His knowledge about medicine and unorthodox methods interested Emma: when you are a witch in a land where magic is frowned upon for it is evil people who possess it and rule with an iron fist, your powers are thought of as a menace and nobody would ever trust you, not even for a remedy against a high fever.

The both of them had a vast knowledge of plants and seeds, Emma's grimoires - which she wouldn't show anybody, not even Victor, and not because she didn't trust him, but because they could be dangerous, hence the safe lockdown in the chest only she could open - a constant source of new information she shared with him. What he did with that information, Emma rather not know, but their brains combined had helped many men recover and her magic had prevented some of them to lose a limb or, worse, their life.

A strangled moan threatened to leave her lips when Killian nipped at the underside of her jaw, the tender flesh there _singing_ in ecstasy.

They weren't in a very secluded corner, the candles flaring too brightly around them and too many eyes on them, clearly waiting for them to put up a good show. With a subtle wave of her hand, Emma made the light diminish in waves, faintly, slowly, enjoying Killian's lips on the column of her neck, one hand squeezing her hip as the ringed fingers of his other hand brushed up and down her leather-covered thigh, hitching it higher and higher until she conceded defeat and threw her leg over his spread knees, turning further into him.

Darkness fell upon them, of course not completely, the candles still alight above their heads, but it allowed them to indulge in their public display of affection without being seen. Patrons would have to wander really close - at their peril - to clearly see them.

Excitement tangled with arousal coursed through Emma's blood, her body responding to Killian's ministrations like a fiddle to a musician. Her nails scratched his jaw slightly as she craned her neck slightly to capture his lips with hers, relishing in the sensation of his stubble beneath her fingertips.

A groan reverberated in her mouth when her other hand pulled slightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. Killian pulled her impossibly closer, flush against his chest with her breasts pressed right there, almost skin to skin. The dip in her corset allowed Killian's chest hair to brush deliciously against the heated flesh there, her nipples straining against the fabric and no amount of pressure would be enough to ease the ache there, the _need_ to feel his skin right against hers.

Teeth pulled at her upper lip, nipping at the flesh there. Instinctively, Emma flexed her hips, grinding down on his thigh. She gasped at the unexpected sensation. Touching herself, even when thinking of Killian, had never felt like that.

The feeling of his lips curled in a smirk against her skin made her tremble. «Ah, you like that?» he teased her, knowing all too well that she did. One hand climbed higher, fingers grazing the underside of her breasts, gently cupping one.

Emma circled her hips again. «Fuck,» she breathed, desperately searching for his mouth again, the hair that wasn't gripping at his hair trailing lower, fingers curling around the charms resting against his chest.

The hand at her waist trailed lower, reaching behind her to squeeze her arse and bring her closer. «Love, I'm not new to this,» he murmured regretfully, probably feeling guilty about his own past, «I don't want you to regret-»

She cut him off with a kiss and the digging of her nails on his chest. «Don't,» Emma murmured, pulling at his lower lip, «I want this. Make me feel free, Killian.»

Another roll of her hips had him growl low in his throat, her thigh brushing against his crotch with every movement.

Around them, the voices were dulled as if they were in a bubble. All Emma could focus on were the sensations swirling inside her, dancing above and beneath her skin, igniting fires deep inside her but building like a tidal wave, threatening to drag her under, threat she would succumb to immediately.

Killian's thumb brushed over a hard nipple from above the corset, touch that made Emma shiver, the warmth of his hand scorching hot even through the fabric. She could only imagine what he could do to her in private, when she wouldn't have a stitch of cloth on her and she could be as loud as she could and-

His lips scraped her collarbone, the tip of his tongue tracing the hollow there. Emma gasped, her arousal spiking. She had no idea it could feel like this, being intimate, being _free_.

It took her all her strength not to moan out loud when Killian moved higher along her throat, sucking lightly there, hot breath like liquid fire, his tongue a flickering flame lapping at her sensitive and heated flesh.

«Just like that, love,» Killian breathed in her ear, latching onto her lobe.

At that, Emma inhaled sharply, hips snapping forward. The way her clothed clit brushed against Killian's thigh tore a moan from her, head dropping over his shoulder to muffle the sound.

Emma kept moving, her mind void and empty at the same time. Pleasure clouded her thoughts but the sensation ignited her senses: she could hear their panting breaths, feel him beneath her and hard against her own thigh, feel his coarse chest hair curling under her fingers, his hands roaming over her body oh so reverently and his lips worshipping her neck and mouth. She could taste him even in the air she breathed, the salt of his sweat mingling with rum and spices more inebriating than alcohol. Sight was the only sense escaping her completely, eyes closed as if she could focus better on her pleasure.

Her rhythm grew almost restless, still slow enough not to attract any unwanted attention - not that she cared, in that specific moment - yet fast enough to help the pleasure inside her build and build, the wave rising from the roaring sea, crashing against the shore the moment Killian pressed his thumb over her nipple, causing her to fall completely, thighs clenching against Killian's and her empty, warm sex tightening against nothing. More shudders ran along all her body at the thought of having him inside her, of finally being full as she experienced the same pleasure she just had.

Her mouth crashed against his, keens muffled by the heated kiss as Emma rutted against Killian to ride the aftershocks of her first, proper orgasm. No, touching herself had never felt like that at all.

Emma hummed in delight at the sensation of Killian's lips still trailing kisses on her heated flesh as she rested boneless draped over his chest. Right now, she felt in heaven.

«Don't fall asleep, love, the night's still young,» Killian whispered in her ear, teasingly. He knew they wouldn't engage in more enjoyable activities, but there wasn't just sex to keep them up all night long, though that would've been Emma's preference. Tonight they would commemorate the fallen and celebrate their victory.

She chuckled. «You'd make a good pillow, so warm and soft where it matters.»

Killian groaned: he wasn't soft at all, in that moment. He needed to calm himself down, to suppress the lust igniting his blood. He too wished he could take Emma upstairs and worship her body the way it deserved to be. Coitus interruptus wasn't a safe method, and he couldn't risk getting Emma pregnant. The thought of getting rid of his own child made Killian sick to his stomach, memories of being abandoned crashing like furious waves against cliffs during a storm inside his mind.

It was Emma's touch, the faint brush of her fingers over his jaw to draw him back to reality, to now, to _her_.

«Bad thoughts?» she asked him, pulling back enough to better look at him; even in the dim light, she could still read him, much like he could, too.

He shook his head. «Apologies, love, there are some things still haunting me even after years.» Killian needn't apologize: Emma's past haunted her, too. Kindred spirits indeed.

«More than once I wished to forget, to extirpate every bad memory. It took me a long while to understand it wasn't a solution. I had to meet someone whose heart had been removed to fully comprehend how it, how _I_ would feel. But I probably don't need to tell you this.»

Killian couldn't help it: he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her lips. «It's always a good thing to have someone be your anchor, love. Losing myself in darkness and numbness would be as easy as breathing, the easiest choice with the most catastrophic consequences. I'm blessed to have you here with me.»

Emma blushed, the red on her cheeks an alarming faint shade of purple. She'd been called many things, but never a blessing, not even implicitly.

Her stomach chose that moment to grumble. Her blush deepened, reaching ridiculous shade when Killian chuckled.

«Hush,» she mumbled, pushing him slightly. «I've heard they serve delicious freshly made bread pudding. With rum. You want it?» She stood, making him groan when her weight shifted away from him, his hard-on slowly softening but still somewhat of a problem. Emma grinned.

«Aye, love,» he replied, tossing the coin pouch at her. Emma caught it, winking at him, before twirling around, suddenly more confident.

«Two bread puddings with extra rum, please,» she ordered once she reached the bar behind which a woman raised a copper eyebrow and smiled at Emma.

«Sure thing, sweetheart, you'll need all your strength to keep up with him, I bet.»

Emma flushed again, the neckline of her corset allowing everyone to see the redness spread everywhere on her chest. She raised her chin, resting her forearms on the countertop as she waited.

The plan, if they could call it that, was to wait tomorrow to inquire about the legend surrounding the kingdom, knowing that, even after centuries, they would gather information anyway.

Information, however, didn't want to wait to be searched for, this time: it reached Emma's hears willingly.

«How is your brother?» a man asked the red haired wench, who was now polishing steins to the point they shone almost blindingly.

The woman gave him a grim smile. «He's devastated, of course. Talking him out of going after the fog and risking being taken away by the fog involved a frying pan.» She sighed, shaking her head. «I've heard him saying that, even if he were to succumb the fog, he would be reunited with Violet.»

Emma's ears perked up, she couldn't help it. However, she kept silent, letting everything they knew reach her and feed her curiosity.

The man snorted. «You'll have to keep hitting that head to stop him from doing just that, Margo. It took you a very long time to keep Hank from drinking himself to death after Sandy's death.»

Margo shook her head. «First his wife, now his daughter. One day soon he'll march into the woods and beg the fog to take him away, mark my words.» Someone - the cook, surely - called her name and she went to the kitchen, emerging after not even a minute with Emma's order.

A pang of disappointment hit Emma, who mustered a grateful smile and took the plates away after tossing the wench a coin, but not before hearing spiteful remarks about magic. Emma winced, sensing her powers hissing in response. Questioning the town would not be an easy task, not when they were so against magic.

It made sense, if what little she'd heard meant something was taking away people - or worse, just children.

The candles had come back to their usual brightness when Emma made it back to the table, Killian drinking from his mug, listening to one of the men's stories. The smile he had on his face brought one on Emma's, too, both widened when she slipped onto the bench next to him and set the plates down, bending one leg at the knee beneath herself.

«Learn something new?»

Emma rolled her eyes, of course he'd picked up the way she'd been listening. It was, after all, a common tactic. «Magic is not welcome here,» she rushed out, feeling relief invading her the moment the words were out and Killian's hand was placed on her thigh. «A child disappeared. Yesterday, probably.»

The crew close enough to hear her was glancing around, too, wary of anyone who could be a threat for their Lady, but also for anyone who could take a child. Some of them were fathers, some estranged ones, others waiting for the next port to retire and get home to their families. Emma had recently said goodbye to one of them, and though he was a good resource for the Jolly's crew, he was a good man first, and he deserved to spend his life as a free man.

She waved her head, dissipating their diffidence. «Whatever took the girl away is not a person. They only mentioned a fog.» Emma then lowered her voice and added: «I'd say it sounds much like a curse, but a curse wouldn't stop, it would spread, taking whoever stands on its path to the place the caster wants it to.»

Killian looked at her, tilting his head. «Sounds like your poofing methods, love,» he made her notice.

«Not quite. Poofing is more being wrapped in a cloud of smoke, which it's also how a curse works on a biggest scale. There's a difference between fog and smoke.» Emma sighed, shaking her head and stabbing the pudding. Despite the maelström inside her, she was hungry. and the scent of pudding and rum made her stomach open like a chasm.

The doubt and mystery followed her throughout the night, even as she smiled and laughed and damn, that bread pudding was _delicious_. The moment they made it back to the Jolly, Killian's arm thrown around her shoulders and the low rumble of his laugh echoing in her ears, those thoughts were relegated to a little corner of her mind, inebriated by rum and happiness.

It wasn't the first time she and Killian shared his bed, snuggling close each night before falling asleep, his arm thrown over her stomach and his thigh between hers. Even after what they'd done in the tavern, activity that still managed to make Emma blush if she thought about it for too long, they knew they'd share his bunk again. They were each other's refuge as night fell and nightmares came, just as they were a shelter from the storm during the day as well. Emma had never experienced a bond like theirs, one she wasn't ready to name yet, even when she already did, deep in her heart.

Once she was free from her corset and trousers, Emma changed into a thin shift. Though she could wave her hand and create something out of thin air, there was something about wandering freely through a market and admire silk and satin fabrics, wondering how they would feel on her skin as she wore them and her lover took them off. She shivered, climbing into the bed, admiring Killian's taut stomach, the way the leather pants hung low on his hips making her mind wander.

 _Damned ingredients_ , she thought, cursing the lack of ingredients recent events had caused. Thankfully, all she needed could be found very simply without raising any suspicions, especially after the clear fear of magic transpired through the bar wench's words.

Killian frowned as he stepped closer and sat on the bed, running gentle fingers over her cheek and temple. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. «You are troubled.»

«I am,» she confirmed, rolling onto her back. «Missing children are a tough subject, and we can tell anyone we could find them and break whatever curse or spell without sounding dangerous. Digging would be dangerous as well.»

«Leave the digging to us pirates, love,» Killian reassured her, bending to press a kiss on her forehead. It warmed her heart to see how patient he was with her, especially on a physical level. On the other hand, she believed he too needed time with that kind of intimacy they would share, one he probably never experienced before.

Just like every night, Emma let Killian wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her closer with her back to his chest, nosing his way through the tangled mass of blond hair until he could inhale her scent and nuzzle her neck.

Emma let out a sigh, wriggling backwards until she felt his bare chest flush against her back. Biting back a smile, she shoved a cold feet between his calves, running it up and down. Killian sighed, tickling her waist.

«I'll stitch thick socks to your skin.»

«That's sick.»

Another tickle. «Thick socks are a blessing, Swan.»

There was a story behind his words, but she didn't push. «You are a furnace, _you_ are a blessing.» The sharp intake of a breath made her stop breathing completely. Emma squeezed his hand, lacing their fingers together.

Before sleep finally claimed her, she heard Killian's words clear in her ear.

«You are a blessing as well, love.»


End file.
